LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF A3IERICA. 



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ARTOTYPE, E. BIERSTADT. 



Poetry 



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Prose. 



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SUBMIT CHESEBROUGH LOOMIS 



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COPYRIGHT, 

Bv MRS. L. J. WING 



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This Book is Affectionately Dedicated 

TO 

My Mother ! The Daystar of My Youth ! The Angel 

OF Peace! The Beacon Light, the Faith, the 

Lodestar Which has Constantly Through 

Life Draavx Me Toward Her Own 

Spirit-Realm of Bliss. 

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PKEFACE. 

The majority of those into whose hands this book will 
fall were personally acquainted with the writer, and knew 
and admired her many fine qualities of heart and brain. 
They realized how ^progressive was her mind, and noted 
with what an eager interest she investigated new theories 
of religion, science, mechanical arts, and late inventions, 
and how extended was her knowledge on all subjects of 
general interest. 

But the thought that lay more closely to her heart 
than any other was on the Eternal World, — that realm of 
bliss, that land of light and beauty, that final home of ever- 
lasting day, where sorrow never comes, where parting is 
unknown, but where reunited loved ones live on in peace 
and liarmony forever, forever progressing in knowledge 
and power, forever going towards the great Eternal Center 
that draws all souls upward towards His own, the source of 
all light, of all worlds, even unto God himself. 

That Heavenly home contains her dear mother and 
other loved ones, from whom death did not seem to sepa- 
rate her, for she lived with them constantly in memory, 
each day recounting some incident from their daily lives. 
In her diaries they are frequently mentioned, and the 
anniversaries of their births into this life, and when they 
were born into immortal life, are always given with more 
than a passing notice, which shows they could never be 
separated from her affection, which like all her other cha- 
racteristics, was fixed on the firmest and most enduring foun- 
dations. Her heart was filled witli a love for humanitv 



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and a great desire to see the world oroadeii into tlie sun- 
light of love, patience, charity, and equal rights which 
would distribute the advantages of education among the 
lowliest and teach them how to preserve and strengthen 
their strongholds against oppressive employers, as well as 
to enlighten their minds and lift them out of the slough of 
ignorance, uncleanliness, and vice, in which so many souls 
now languish. She hated slavery and oppression in all its 
forms, believing in the right of every man and woman to 
freedom of thought, of si:)eech ; the right to elevate oneself 
and march onward with the progress of the age, to reach 
beyond the present to discover new theories, new themes, 
new forces, new Avorlds, if possible. She believed in the 
right of raising questions which would disseminate the sun- 
light of knowledge and cause us to seek with our intelli- 
gences the intelligence given us throughout all nature. 
She believed that the power of the brain to acquire and 
keep was limitless, and her greatest happiness consisted 
in absorbing knowledge, for she seemed more to absorb 
than to learn. 

She believed that all truths were rays from God ; that 
wisdom is divine; that science and philosophy are both 
si)iritual and worldly treasures, and that love, pure and un- 
selfish, comes directly from God, — that it is holy in all its 
emotions and all-absorbing in its charities. 

She was a devoted wife, mother, sister, and friend; 
and all that an unusual intelligence and loving heart could 
devise was done to soothe, comfort, cheer, sustain, and 
bring happiness to the fortunate ones with whom her des- 
tinies were thrown. She never knew defeat, never de- 
spaired, never found any cloud so dark for herself or others 
but that she could see its silver lining. There was no 
spot in life so barren but she found an oasis co rest u[)oii; 



VII 



:io garden so filled with weeds but she could find sonie- 
Avhere in its intricacies some flower worthy to preserve 
and make the garden worth reclaiming. So her life was 
at once a comfort, a light, a never-to-he-forgotten lesson, 
and a sustaining happiness to those that came in contact 
with her, and many that she has blessed now live to bless 
her name and revere her memory, liaised a Baptist, she 
left the severity of that faith for the brighter one of uni- 
versal salvation, and while yet in her teens joined the Uni- 
versalist church. The theory that God is love and 
through His love, — and not by threats of eternal puiiish- 
ii^eiit^ — He was to reclaim the world was more in accord 
with her generous nature, wide benevolence, and far-reach- 
ing charity. She identified herself with that then unpopu- 
lar church, and was an active member of it for many years. 

AVhen the subject of Spiritualism began agitating the 
public mind she investigated it, being attracted by the 
yearning love of a heart that never could forget its dearly 
loved dead. She was soon convinced of its truth, and 
throughout her life lived in the light and comfort which 
the beauty of this new faith brought her. It spread its 
effulgent rays around her, opening the door of Heaven, 
showing her the radiant pathway to its Eternal gates. 
She knew and felt the celestial glories awaiting her, and, 
when death came, all unexpectedly, she was fully pre- 
pared to go, and passed from earth to Heaven with all the 
joyousness of a victor going to be crowned ; with all the 
delight of one whose brightest anticipations are about to be 
realized ; with the deep happiness that one finds in the ful- 
filment of a long cherished hope. 

She did not die, — hers was a glorified soul that sprang 
joyously through death's portals and A\-as crowned with im- 
mortal glories. Among her varied accomplishments she 



was a fine elocutionist. She died October 7, 1802, at 
twenty-five niinutes past six o'clock in the morning. At 
midnight before her death she recited in a clear, full voice 
the following beautiful lines by Lizzie Doten : 

It was midnight and out of that deep 

Whose waves from the Infinite roll, 
AYhich men in tlieir blindness call sleep, 

I awoke to the light of the soul. 
And a feeling of fear and of dread 

In that land of the boundless unknown 
Came over my soul and I said : 

" I am here with the shadows, — -alone! " 

Then a nearness, a mystical sense 

Of a jjresence unseen made me pause 
And thrill with a feeling intense, — 

Like a magnet that quickens an<l draws. 
The shadows grew restless and swayed 

Their pinions, — made ready for fiight, — 
Then silently rose and obeyed 

A presence demanding the light. 

Did I dream? Did I surely behold 

A being resplendent with grace, 
Whose hair was like sunlight and gold, — 

With the glory of God on his face? 
And I, a i)oor wandering child, 

Afflicted with wonder and fear ; 
Did I dare to look uj) when he smiled, 

And answer his call to draw near? 

Oh ! love is a mystery deep, 

The lon<rin<x ami loni- know its voic-e: 



'Tis a magnet of infinite sweep, 

And tlie heart tliat is drawn knows iiu cIk 
Oil ! I gazed in his huninous eyes 

Witli the love and the trust of a eliild ; 
So lofty, so godlike, so wise, 

So tender and sweet when he smiled. 

1 knew I was worthless and weak, 

Defiled by earth's darkness and dust ; 
l)Ut my spirit grew earnest to speak. 

In the strength and the fulness of trust. 
Oil ! thou, Avho wert born of that light 

Where no darkness can ever abide, 
Wilt thou hear, if I question aright, 

And answer? Who art thou? I cried. 

Tlu'n his voice came as gentle and low, 

As soft and as soothingly sweet 
As the stream with its musical flow, 

As the rain with its soft silver feet: — 
A spirit, a spirit, no nujre 

Must thou question, dear child of tin- earth 
In vain wilt thou seek to explore 

The secrets of souls and their birtli. 

lint the voice of thy pleading is heard. 

The cry of th}^ soul for the light : 
Lo ! I am the answering Avord 

Tiiat quickens thy blindness to sight. 
Lay tliy hand then unshrinking in mine 

Till the depths of thy being siiall fill. 
Oil, Neophyte! hen- at the shrine 

Discern thou the secret of will. 



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A Avave from life's iiitinite sea 

Seemed to sweep me tumultuously (>\m-, 
Not 3^et was my spirit made free 

From the earth and its storm-clouded shore. 
But I knew I had found what I sought, 

That my spirit was guided aright ; 
Those wondrous pulsations had caught 

AVhich quicken the children of light. 

Dear child, said the spirit, be bra\^e 

Thy mission on earth to fulfil. 
And know that no soul is a slave 

Tliat hath fathomed the secret of will. 
Farewell ! And he vanished away. 

Like a star that hath drank its own light. 
I turned to my dwelling of clay, — 

To the earth and the shadows of night. 

But I know as I never have known 

That this life which we live is a dream; 
That the spirit is never alone 

And we all are far more than we seem. 
For oft when we battle Avith fate 

With courage undaunted and strong, 
AVe hear from the beautiful gati; 

Sweet echoes of music and song. 

We shall ])lant the Avhite lilies of ])eace 
On the grave of our deadliest ill. 

When our idle complaining shall cease 

And Ave Avork Avith the Infinite Will. 



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CONTKNTS. 



POETRY. 

My Angel Mother . . . . i 

My Coquette ------ ;] 

For ax Album - _ - _ - 3 

Philosophy ------ 4 

Art -------- o 

True — -False ------ 

The Misaxthroi'k ------ 7 

My Sistei: ------- s 

Ox RecEIVIXG a BoU(iUET - - - - 8 

The Storm ------ 9 

The Death of Confidence - - - - 10 

Martha Rosanna - - - - - 11 

Day Dreams ------- 12 

The Death of President Garfield - 14 

My Birthday ------- IT) 

To D. K. M. — Repentance - - - 10 

Time - - - - - - 17 

Grieve Not ------ is 

An Album • - - - - - - li) 

Mary ------- u) 

Ska Shells - - - - - - - l>(I 

"Let Your Lkjht So Shink"' - - 21 

F<nj<iivi;xKss - - - - ^ '21 

Cri'iD's Dau'I's ------ 28 

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Album - - 24 

Chained to Earth ----- 24 

On the Birth of My First Grandchilu - 25 
Early Friendships — To Henry Putnam 

LooMis ------- 26 

To My New Diary ----- 27 

Early Morninci .--.-- 29 

The Rose Tree p.y the Wall - - 29 

Prayer - ------- 30 

Answer to Gertrude's A'alentine - 31 

Childhood ------- 33 

Song -------- 37 

An Old Well ------ 38 

Dedication of Martha's Alrum - - 38 

Seek axd Find ------ 39 

Another Bouqt^et ----- 40 

The River - - - - - - - 4() 

On the Death of a Frikxd's Child - 41 

Jesse -------- 42 

On Finding a Rin(t ----- 43 

Infinite Love - ----- 44 

Josephine ------- 45 

Beloved - - . . - - 47 

My Mother's Bridal Robe . - - 47 

Love -------- 49 

Couplet on Rkc living So. me Roses - 49 

Transition - - - - - - 50 

Ever Near Thee ----- 51 

My Mother in 1Ila\l\ - - - - 52 

Muses ------- 53 

A Rose Tree ------ 54 

On the Death of My First (tKaxdciiild 55 



To A YouxG Fkiexi) Wkkimng - - -66 

Tup: Brook ------- o7 

To My Splkit Fkiexds - - - -08 

ESTELLA ------- o9 

80UL Love ------- 60 

The Home of My Ciiildiiood - - - 61 
Ox Receivixo a Rose Fko:\[ a Little 

Stranger ------ 64 

Sonnet -------- 65 

A Plea for Pe.vof ----- 66 

Impromptu -_--._- 68 

Life -------- 68 

TiiY GuARDiAX Angel - - - - - 69 

Long Ago ------- 70 

Eternal Light ------ 72 

To Mrs. S., on Claiming to Be My 

Seventh DAm^iiTER - - - - 73. 

Remembered ------ 73 

On My Verses Copied by One of My 

Children ------ 74 

The Closing Life ------ 75 

Pride ------- 77 

Roses -------- 78 

The Spider - - - - - - 79 

corolinn ------- 80 

Rain -------- 81 

CUPIDON -------- 82 

The Goldex Rule ----- 82 

The (jfiFT OF A Ring ----- 84 

Jaxuary 1, 1863 ------ 84 

Thoughts at Niagara - - - - 8(> 

My Spirit Birth ----- 87 



My CiuLDUKX ------ 88 

Nature ------ 89 

Melodia -------- 90 

Fancies .-.--.- 91 

To A Gll[EVLX(^ FlMKXl) - - - - <)1 

My Loved Ones - - . . . 93 

Or 11 Estelle's Jjikiiiday - - - - 94 

FoKBEAIt -.-..-- 95 

My Biktiiday' ------ 9o 

The Difference -..--- 90 

The Age ------.- 97 

"Perfect Love Castetji Oft Fear'' - 98 

At the Grave of Douglas - - - 98 

On Seeing a Sick Infant Sleepin(^ - 1(H) 

Liff:\s Pictures ------ 100 

"More Clearly I Behold Tiie.m Now 

Than Those That Never Died" - lo2 

1859 -------- 103 

Unrecognized Genius - - - - - io4 

On Recf:iving a Gold Pencil — Prk- 

SENTED liY My Class - - - - ]05 

Spirit Power ------ 106 

Pass On ------ - 108 

Admission of Tfxas t<> the Union - 108 

"Tune, Shaw" ----- 109 

The Purest Lo\ i-: ----- no 

Life ------- 111 

Beyond the Tomm ----- 112 

Suspense — Certainty - - - - - 113 

Ingratitudf ------ 114 

Philosophy of Prayer - . - . no 

A Skf'I'ch ------- 117 



A A" 



To AN Actor - - - - - - 110 

August 31 ----- - 1:20 

L.ET Me Go - - - - - - - 121 

The Death of an Infant Ctuaxdchild - 122 

Sonnet - - - - - - - - 12:^ 

JPalse Friendship . . . . - ]24 

■"The Lord Is in His IToly Temple'' - 12.') 

Etola ------- 12C) 

Guardian Angels - - - 120 

To My Husband ----- 127 

AuPtORA - - - - - - - 129 

A Portrait - - - - - - 131 

T'ascinated -..---- 132 

Mabel's Birthday - - - - - 132 

Eloquence - - - - - - - 134 

Eva's Fourth Birthday - - - - 135 

A Petition - - - - - - - 135 

Unforgotten - - - - - - 136 

"Love Not" ------- 137 

St. Helena - - - - - - 138 

Spring — Summer - - - - - - 139 

The Inner Temple - - - - 141 

The Hill Top of Life - - 141 

Farewell ------ 143 

To Colonel Kobert Klotz - - - - 144 

Answer to a A^\LE^■TINK - - - - 14G 

Mm Ocean - - - - - - - 140 

Hope's Star __---- 147 

Aif Anniversary - - - - - 148 

The Dying Year - - - - 149 

Snoav - - 150 

On Yisitincj a IVfAciNiFicENT Park 152 



AY] 



Childhood's Eden ------ 153 

My Childken ----- - 154 

In a Diaky ------- 155 

To A Fill end . . - . . 15(5 

To My Bashful Fuiend - - - 158 

'Tis Only Small Acts - - - IGI 

FoiiGET Me: Not - - - - - - 1G2 

My Ne:phew's Toy AVatek Wheel - 163 

Verses for the Children - - - J 60 

The Frog ...... 105 

The Rosebush - - - - - 107 

The BircPs Nest - - - - - 168 

Riddles -------- 169 

Valentines Written for My YouN(r 

Friends ------- 159 

Fragments ------- 175 



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PROSE. 

Extracts From a AVork On Phrenology - 183 

Introduction ------ 1S3 

Temperaments - - - - - - 187 

Faculties of the Mind - - - . 194 

Moral Sentiments - - - - - 208 

Size of the Cranium - - . - 229 

Phrenolog}^ ---._. 930 

Phreno-Magnetism - - . - 233 

Extracts Fro^i A Lecturk ON Pjirenology - 239 

Essays -------- 251 

Think for Yourself ----- 251 

God's Love ------ 956 

Goodness ------- 258 

Extracts From Diaries - - - . 959 

Tobacco -------- 283 

The Tobacco "WoR^r ----- 287 

Extracts From a Lkcture ox Odd- 
Fellowship ------ 288 

Old Age ------- 296 

My First Grandmother - - - - 301 

" What Hath God Cleansed " - - 302 



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MY ANGEL MOTHER. 

Spirits wliis})er, tell me truly, 

Ai'e ye here and do ye speak 
Truths to us but given newly 

To impress us mortals weak \ 
When mild zephyrs come and whisper 

]\lelody within mine ear, 
Is it thus thy evening vespers 

Blend with ours to heaven in prayer' 






Dearest near me dost thou linger, — 

Am I in thy presence now ;' t^fi 

Do I feel thy viewless fingers 

Softly laid npon my brow ? 
Canst thou see my heart is throbbing 

With the cares and ills of life ? ^J^ 

Shall it cease its grief and sobbing ^^^ 

AVhen its pulses stop its strife t 'i>^', 



^^ I'eathe my brow with light that's gushing 
Fi'om the fountains of the blest, 

S])eak in soothing tones that's hushing 
All life's tumults into rest. 

MotlK'i- dear, could I behold thee 

In those radiant bowers of bliss, — 
1 



— 2— , 

Oil ! I could not wait to fold thee 
To my inmost soul in this. 

Mother dear, thy angel presence 

Lifts me upward to thy home, 
Bids the car of time move swiftly. 

Can I wait so long to come? 
Must I on this plane material 

Linger long, away from thee 'i 
Teach me how my work to hasten 

That I may come home to thee. 

Teach me how to light the darkness, 

How to lift the veil of woe 
From the wan, distorted features 

Of humanity below. 
Teach me how to truth attract them, 

How to light each heart with love 
That shall burn with golden brightness 

From this life to that above. 




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MY COQUETTE. 

When I gaze in the depths of thy dear eyes I see 
The sunlight of beauty, Sweet, sliining on nie, 
With that gay, arch expression on ruby lips curled. 
What sight is more lovely? 'Tis the joy of this 

world. 
I know there are moments when sorrow or doubt 
SjDreads darkness that mantles thy dear face about. 
Like the cloud thaf s obscuring the. light of the sun 
They recede as the day god smiles through every 

one ; 
So my happy heart with true sympathy yearns 
And faith' s holy fire in my bosom still burns. 



FOR A^^ ALBUM. 

Thine album is a casket full of pearls, 

Of glowing heart-gems which no time can dim. 
P^acli item is a banner whicli unfurls 

And rises heavenward, — like all Nature's 
hymn. 
Their form material 'neatli this cover lies, — 

Aifection's, hope's, and love's most holy prayer 
We read in fondness with our mortal eyes ; 

But in our iuuiost hearts we store them where, 



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Like sweetest perfiiiiie l)lending witli the soul 

And lifted upward by its magic power, 
AVe feel amid life's cares their sweet control 

And see their light in sorrow' s darkest hour. 
Then treasured })e these gems by dear ones given, | 

They'll form a wreath of diamonds for thy d 

l)row, J 

For memories dear will reach from eartli to heaven 1 

And like thine album keep a record now. 
So sacred to loved playmates of thy youtli, 

This book will live thi'ough many future years, 
A l)eacon light to guide to hope and truth 

And draw thee onward to celestial sx^heres. 



PHILOSOPHY. 

Our pleasures and pains are all in Pate's l)ook, 
AVhich Fancy but gilds with a vanishing look. 
Our hox)es, trusts, and doubts alternately blend 
Through life's varied moments the same to the end. 

Since Fortune has checkered this pathway of ours. 
And thorns lurk unseen 'neath the loveliest Howers, 
Let us smile when destruction and sorrow attend, — 
For, when storms rage the fiercest, they soonest will 
end. 



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ART. 

Art, child of God Jind messenger of Heaven, 
Without thee Eden were a desert waste : 

By thee attracted, mind from thence was riven 
To worsliij) here thy beauty's magic grace. 

Who wouhl not bend in awe before that power 

AVhicli trains and guides Heaven's restive, fiery 
steeds i 
Who woukl not worship wisdom' s brightest flower 
Whose fragrance makes us gems of earthly 
reeds i 

AVho would not adore the shadows full of grace 
Which hold the features of the loved, and lost, 

And kiss in dear remembrance the loved face 

Whose fate with ours by death or fortune 
crossed. 

Art, child of God, triumphant o'er the grave. 
Thou smilest calmly at death's iron spoils 

And. seals the soul-lit features love would save 
To cheer our hearts amid life's cares and. toils. 



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TRUE — FALSE. 

Can absence e' er sever that golden-linked chain, 
Which friendship hath woven and burnished 
with love ; 
Can the smiles of new faces, wealth, station e'er 
stain 
One link of its brightness i No ; ' tis wrought 
from above. 

Beware of false brilliants, — those summer friends 

fly 

Who never are nigh except fortune shines 
clear. 
When our spirits run low 'neath a threatening sky, 
Tliey turn from our presence wuth visage 
severe. 

One true-hearted friend is better by far 

Than all the gay throng so careless and cold 

Oh ! cherish that one whose friendship for aye 

Will shine with the new and be true to the' old. 



THE MISANTHROPE. 

Why shut thy heart from all the world, 

Why petrify thy mind. 
Why from thee is each blessing hurled, 

Why to God's goodness blind ;; 
Shall one dark spot u^^on the sun 

Spoil all his cheering rays,— 
And we refuse to gaze upon 

The light for fear of haze ? 

Shall we grow angry if a cloud 

Obscures a brilliant sky '. 
Let mental anguish like a shroud 

Bid hope forever Hy \ 
ImiDious thou to fault thy God, 

Ungrateful ' tis in thee 
To feel that thy ungracious iiod 

Could better Avorlds decree. 

Know this, — thy discontented mind 

And selfish spirit, too, 
Has made thee to earth's beauties blind 

And draped thy life with Rue. 
Learn to love Nature, — and her love 

May warm thine icy heart ; 
She'll point thee to that power above 

Whose fiat worlds impart. 
7 



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MY SISTER. 

My sister, when our cliiklliood years 

With playful sports and mirth shone gaily, 

Like dew on flowers our tiny tears 

Exhaled, as other joys came daily : — 

So when life's sorrows sadly cast 

Their gloom around us as we sever 

We know their shadows cannot last, — 
That hope must still shine on forever. 

As far from thee in stranger lands I wander. 

Stemming the current of life's boisterous tide, 

Remember that of thee and home I ponder 

And pray thy barque may o'er smooth waters 
glide. 



ON RECEIVING A BOUQUET. 

Sweet bouquet, sweeter as the pledge of kindness. 
Thy perfume stealing o'er the ambient air 

Grateful to all, thy spirit in its blindness 

Bequeaths its blessings free that all may share. 

Could I but speak my spirit' s deep emotion. 



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Yoii then could see how in my heart's devotion 
The flow of gratitude has full control. 

I have no language to disclose the fulness 

Which the deej) feeling of my soul distills 

For all your kindness, — even my thanks have dul- 
ness, 
And cause regretful tears my eyes to fill. 

May He who has tlie power to grant me hearing 
Bless all my friends (the token ye have given) 

With life, health, jjeace, and friends Avhose love 
endearing 
Gives joy in Time, and future bliss in Heaven. 



THE STORM. 

Darkly hung the sable curtain 

O' er the western, watery sky, 
And the lightning's brilliant flashes 

Told the god of storm was nigh. 
High he rode in mystic chariot 

Drawn by coursers of the air. 
Deeply, fiercely, loudly rumbling 

Roll the wheels of his awful car. 

Now tlie sound is in the distance. 

Nearer comes, — its crasli we liear. 



— 10 — 

Grandly and sublimely riding 

IS'ow the god of storm is near. 

If thus mighty is the agent 

Which but executes His will, 

How much more is He who sayeth 
To the elements : "Be still." 



THE DEATH OF CONFIDENCE. 

I saw a group of lovely mourners. 

Love, Avliose angel wings glitter with sunlight, is 
now A-eiled and covered with the weeds of sor- 
row. 

Friendship, whose gentle tones and stfir-gtnumed 
diadem bring peace to so many hearts, now 
casts down her lustrous eyes, whose fountnius 
flow all unchecked. 

Joy and llai)i3iness, (crowned with golden ringlets 
from beauty's bower, and wont to make the air 
ring with their songs of gaiety Jind mirth, now 
sob in grief and woe. 

Pale faced Peace, whose light and snowy drapery 
floats so gracefully around her beauteous form, 
covers her ethereal whiteness with the sable 
weeds of mourning. 

Pity, Avhose eyes are always iilled with tears, now 
lets them flow afresh in mournful sorrow. 



— 11 — 

These lovely mourners gather near each other and 
niurnnir softly throngh their tears: "Conh- 
dence, our angel sister, is dead, and with her 
death we bury all that brings peace to our 
hearthstones, steadfastness to our friendships, 
trustfulness to our loves, and comfort to our 
hearts in dark hours of adversity. 

"Without her, life can only be a dreary waste and 
we are forever bereft ; for Hope will hide her 
light from us and veil her star in darkness, 
while all that makes life iDure and holy, sweet 
and beautiful, — our sister Confidence lies 
dead. ' ' 



MARTHA ROSANNA. 

My Martie — Rose dear, thou earnest first to cheer 
A fond mother heart wdth a new love so dear ; 
All unseen our guardians were watching to know 
How soon the sweet rosebud was destined t(^ blow 

And slied its soft perfume from such tiny lips. 
Dark eyes, rosy mouth, and wee finger tips ; — 
A herald of love thou, — for six others came 
All wrapped in love's blanket, and loved just the 
same. 



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One sweet blue-eyed brother, so wliite and so fair, 
So dimpled and smiling — with flossy light hair ; 
How like fairies you wandered all day 'mid the 

flowers, 
The roses, and vines, and enjoyed the bright hours. 

Like birds you were singing and flying all day ; 

So busy, so lively, so cheerful and gay ; 

When evening approached, then in much needed 

rest 
My tired-out wanderers came home to their nest. 



DAY DREAMS. 

In my happier moods my spirit roams far. 

And I live in a world of my own ; 
I dream — my bright fancies take form in the air 
And my castles are high, and as shai:)ely and fair 

As though builded of marble and stone. 

Oh ! my beautiful gardens, — such odorous flowers 
AVith cool rippling fountains, and birds softly 
gay ; 

In those deej) wooded dells are the snuggest of 

bowers 
That are shielded alike from the sunshine and 

showers. 
And are filled with the breathings of May. 



m 



vs 



Theiv roses wliose sweetness is almost divine 

l)l()Oin in beauty o'er my castle so grand, — 
Tliey climb on its walls and lovingly twine 
Their blossoms all dripping with dew drops that 
shine 
With such lustre in my fairy land. 

I have walks — and a drive by a pure glassy lake 

Which reflects on its bosom so clear 
The soft hazy moon, and the stars as they take 
Their places on high in their order to make 
The bright constellations there. 

I have all that Nature and art can bestow 

To till every wish of my heart, 
And ''my world" is the heaven I live in below, — 
My moments of bliss when no sorrow or woe 

Can afflict me with tlieir cruel smart. 

Ah: my magical dreams! how tliey bring to my 
view 
The far distant loved ones so i)recious, so 
near, — 
How I bask in the sunlight of their smiles so true 
And press with delight again and anew 
Tlie hands of those cherished so dear. 

How tlie visions of tliose who have passed me in 

life 



VL^. 



— U — 
On our way to Eternity's shore 
Smile away from my heart every thouglit of the 

strife 
Of this world, — from tlieir home where love only is 
rife 
And dav dreams are real evermore. 



THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD. 

The sun in glorious brightness liath arisen 

From the dark cloud that hid from earth his 
light, 
So the immortal now hath burst his prison 

And shines in beauty far from human sight. 
A star hath set on earth to rise in heaven, 

Its light attracted throngs of living men ; — 
While here such brilliancy to it was given, — 

Its track is left along life's horizon, — 

Left in the hearts of those whose tear-drops flow 

In the deep consciousness of severed ties, 
AVhose love deep-welling from the soul must go 

To find its object in the spirit skies. 
Death is not death, — the bursting of the shell 

That holds us bound to this material i)lane, — 
The lifting from the soul (earth's wearied siDell) 

Is life, — and gives life's consciousness again. 



15 



The end of sickness, disapx^ointment, woe, — 

The end of grief, of suffering and tears ; 
Born to immortal joys thou now shalt Ivuow 

Only the glory thy bright past endears. 
Though thou art gone, a loving country keeps 

The story of thy life, written in deathless lines. 
Entombed thy dust in guarded care shall sleep 

And round thy name bright bays and laurels 
twine. 



MY BIRTHDAY. 

AVelcome this day which to the number giA^es 

One more to those of my departed years, — 
Chained to the past, its only record lives 

To form the number I am prisoned here : — 
Prisoned, — for who bound to a clog of earth 

Is free to monnt on wings of hoi)e and fly 
Through the vast universe Avliere worlds have birth. 

Or i-ead the wondrous pages of the sky i 

Darkly we see its spangled cover here ; 

Awed with the sight we long to read its 
page,— 
View ils great author in liis Heavenly sphere 

And taste those joys inunoi'tal minds engage. 



16 



Yet we this clirysalis, grovelling state must bear 
And carry still earth's clogging weight of clay 

Till dissolution bursts the bonds we wear — 

Then spirit-freed we'll soar to realms of day. 



TO D. K. M. 

REPENTANCE. 

My mother! Years, long, tedious years have 

passed 
Since thy mild eyes on me their lustre cast. 
Since thy calm voice in sweet, maternal tone 
Breathed cares for me. How all tliy love was 

shown. 
To Heaven thy prayers, — to me thy counsel gave. 
1 could not think thee then so near thy grave. 

Oh ! to thine own prophetic ndnd 'twas given 
To know how soon thy home should be in heaven. 
Oh ! I was wayward then, how could I know 
That my wild mirth disturbed thy spirit so '. 
My boisterous ])oyliood's heedless, thoughtless glee 
Fettered to earth thy mind, — by grace set free. 

And thy fond love to guard my waywardness 
Lingered 'mid pain and death — my life to bless. 



rr>;5^<tr;;sicrv 




17 



Forgive me now. Angel in heaven forgive. 
Thy saintly image in my soul shall live 
So pure and holy to my spirit given, — 
A link to draw thv son to thee in heaven. 



TIME. 

Time hides from us all future woe 
And brightly on us beams, 

Until our sorrows o'er us flow, 
Dispelling hopeful dreams. 

Then Time again with healing wing 
Soars up so bright and fair, 

Our gushing joys in music sing,— 
Forgetting what we are. 

So in this w^orld of ebb and flow 
Of joy's and sorrow's tide. 

Time gilds our moments as they go 
And darkens them beside. 



GRIEVE NOT. 

Our dear ones when they leave us 
Float to the "Golden Shore," — 

Oil ! let it not then grieve us 
Tliat they have gone before. 

We soon their steps must follow. 
We soon shall lay this form 

Away in peace and silence, 

Away from life's fiei'ce storm. 

Then up and let's ))e doing 

Our works of truth and love ; 

It will our spirits brighten 

For the world that is above. 

Let us battle against the errors 
Always with a loving heart ; 

Let us show the world the terrors 
Of sin's cruel, stinging smnrt. 

Let us paint tlie glorious future 
To be given virtue's crown. 

Try to l)auish doubts and darkness 
Which weigh the spirit down. 

Let us listen for the music, 

Floating from that upper si)here, 
18 



19 



And attune the souls around us 
So in sympathy tliey hear. 

Let us show through life's long pathway 
(Ever dark though it may be) 

Faith will shine amidst the shadows — 
Li":htino: towards eternity. 



AN ALBUM. 

Treasure this pure and crystal shrine, 

For 'neatii its silent cover 
Heart-gems are set from Memory' s mine, 

And each is like a lover. 
Though words may vary, still the tone, 

The sentiment, and feeling 
Are like one chord, one heart alone 

Its tender love revealino;. 



MARY. 

My cliild, my rose, my gem immortal shining, 
Olfshoot from God, thy spirit came to me, 

A diamond liglit forever intertwining 

With my own heart, my life, my love for thee. 



— 20 — 

Thy heart from mine received its first pulsation, 
Thy life from mine its wondrous course began, 

Thy love from mine in haloed 'lumination 

Like sparkling light through thy being ran. 

Though other loved ones sometimes sway thy 
spirit, 
Though other hearts may seem to win thine 
own. 
Yet still 'tis I thy strongest love inherit, 

A love whicli twines our hearts and lives in 
one. 



SEA SHELLS. 

Keep these little, pearly shells. 
Every one a story tells. 
Now, moved by winds and waves no moi-e, 
They cluster here to let you see 
Their opal beauty, shall not we 
Love and admire the wondrous power 
Whicli gives new beauties every hour 
To forms of life we never saw, 
But know they're all out worked by law? 



"LET YOUR LIGHT SO SHINE/' 

Set your light where others see it, 
Let it shine from far and near ; 

It will to the weak give courage, 
To the faltering hope and cheer. 

To the downcast — faith which scatters 
All the gloomy mists of doubt, 

Draws aside the veil that shadows,— 
Reveals the truth, drives error out. 

For our holy asx^irations 

Fill the soul with heavenly light, 
And its beams are lighting others 

Toward a nobler, grander height. 



FORGIVENESS. 

Forgive tlie erring, cover o'er the smart 

Another's thoughtless words have caused tliee, 
Still the complainings of thy wounded heart, 
Force back the tears which all unbidden start 
And bravely say : I will, I do forgive thee. 

\nd then forgive — even as Christ forgave. 
Not by mere words, but deepest feeling ; 
21 



Blot from your memory ilio.se sharp tones which 

gave 
The arrow's point, — whose x>oison like a wave 

Engulfed your mind, its peace and comfort 

stealing. 

Forgive thine enemies, — hearts liiled with hate 

And evil thoughts, wishing for harmful things, 

Absorb their own deep malice, — soon or late 

They find that retribution fixed as fate 

O'ertakes them, and a punishment it brings. 

Look with calm eves and try to judge aiiglit, 

Allowance make for words in haste that's 
spoken, 
Let not one small dark cloud affect the light 
On friendship's altar, which was always bright. 
Until one speck, one spot, its rays has broken. 

Oh ! then forgive ; this attribute divine 

Comes from oar Father, — comes of Heaven ; 
Turn thou thy thoughts unto His holy shrine 
And let its peaceful light o'er thy life shine 

Till thou forgivest the full seventy times seven. 



CUPID'S DARTS. 

Could I but learn of Cupid 

To let the arrow flit, 
Tliy heart that's now so stupid 

Should be severely hit. 
Could I but steal tlie glances 

From out thy beaming eyes, 
That soul which me entrances 

Should kiss me with its sighs. 

Could I but hear tliee whisi)er, 

In tones so deep and low, 
• * I love thee dearest ever. 

My joy no bounds could know. 
,Vere I the glowing sunshine 

That revels on thy brow, 
I'd never leave for Luna 

To rival me as now. 

Were I the l)almy zephyrs 

Caressing all the flowers, 
rd leave tlieii* sweet breatli for thy side 

And dwell in love's bright bowers. 
^Vere I liope's brilliant life-star, 

I'd rise and never set ; • 
On thy fair brow I'd shine for aye. 

Thy blazing coronet. 
23 



ALBUM. 

Ill sparkling love crystals of i-oseate line 
Affection's pure treasures shine brightly for you. 
Condensed in this volume are the tlioughts of your 

friends, 
All twined in the garlands wliich pure friendsliix^ 

sends. 



CHAINED TO EARTH. 

Oh ! wliy chain the si)irit' s free course to tlie earth, 
To a fast fading flower's loved hues ? 

Why fetter its soaring to the i)hu'e of its birth? 
Why clip the bright wings it would use ? 

Though thy fair, faultless form so adorned with 
each grace 
Which culture and art can bestow ; 
Though thy mind ever speaking imprints on thy 
face 
Its im})ressions of sorrow and woe ; 

Though thy w^ords are as honeyed as manna from 
heaven, 
And their eloquence charms every ear ; 
24 



— Si") — 

Yet the soulful expression unto thine eye given 
Is surpassed in the bright spirit sjihere. 

There tlie spirit looks out from the blue lustrouf- 
orbs ; 

There angel forms float in the sky ; 
There cherubs a god-like expression a))sorb 

From the seraphs in i^apture on high. 

There never is death, — we are angels so free 

To roam to the fartherest star ; 
All the known and unknown we are given to see. 

And our inner light shines out afar. 



ON THE BIRTH OF MY FIRST GRANDCHILD. 

Little gem so pure, so holy. 

Brilliant, beautiful, and new, 
From the great Eternal Fountain 

Whence all life its essence drew, — 
Recent ray of life immortal 

Sent from Heaven on earth to shine, — 
As we gaze on thee, sweet cherub, 

Love's fond tendrils round us twine. 

'I'hy 1)1 ue eyes so soft and dove-like, 
Ti'ue :md iuuoceiit and bi-ight. 



— 26 — 

Kindle — every moment kindle — ■ 
New affection by their light, 

As thy young and doting mother 
Clasps thee fondly to her breast 

And her kisses sweetly smother 
All thy little restlessness : — 

Heaven nor earth ne'er drew a picture 

Half so beautiful as this, 
When the mother on her infant 

Prints her first enrapture<l kiss. 
How her full heart throbs with pleasure, 

As she sees the bud unfold ; 
Each bright petal is a treasure 

Dearer far than mines of gold. 



EARLY FRIENDSHIPS. 

TO IIENKY J^UTNAM L003IIS. 

The morn breathes softly on the opening fiowers. 
And gentlest zephyrs kiss their earliest bloom 

So friendships young amidst life' s blissful bowers 
Feel not the sultry atmosphere of noon ; 

Wouldst thou the freshness of life's morning keep 
Let no corroding (;are oppress thy sleep — 



— 27 — 

Nor darkening envy in thy soul have place. 

Shun, ever shun, suspicion's poisonous breath : 
It withers the sweet frankness of the face 

And is to truth and candor early death. 
Let confidence, hope, and widest symj^athy 

Twine all their virtues in a wreath for thee. 



TO MY NEW DIARY. 

The thoughts that thy record shall faithfully keep 
Still doth the dark future conceal ; 

Though Time shall unfold them as onward lit 
leaps, — 

Each day something neAv shall reveal. 
Pei'chance some of soitow and others of joy, 

And others indifferent shall be ; 
For life' s precious metal is mixed with alloy. 

Though its surface is brillant, you see. 

'I'o the butterfly merging from out the dark shell. 
Which its chrysalis form did enclose, 

The balm of the morning appears as a sx)ell 
Wliere Seraphs are watching repose ; 

i>ut. wlien blackens the tempest, his golden wing> 
fail 
To buoy Up his fonii i'roux the ground ; 



58 — 



UuAvelcuine expeiieiu'e but shows liiiu how i'rail, — 
How fleeting liiVs pleasures are found. 

Even so the young si)irit when first on the world 

It looks out, full freighted with joy, 
Like the rosebud of i)romise with x>*^tals still 
furled, — 

It but blooms for the winds to destroy. 
So the young heart all truthful, confiding, and free, 

Takes all for pure gold which but shines 
Till the surface is broken, 'tis then it can see 

How black is the dross it confines, 

L' ENVOI. 

Pure indeed is that spirit who bouyant and free, 
Unscathed by life's foibles remains ; 

Who though fettered to weakness, life' s ei-roi-s can 
see 
And mount upward in spite of its chains. 




EARLY MORNING. 

The wings of the morning are Time's carrier dove, 
They flutter down the sunlight all golden from 

above ; 
They softly stir the branches and wake the happy 

hours, 
They kiss the sleeping roses, — drink the dew from 

off the flowers. 

They move earths emerald carpet in graceful waves 

that glitter ; 
They circle round and listen to hear the young 

birds twitter ; 
They skim across the laughing brook, as on its 

pebblj' way 
It sino-s a welcome carol unto the god of day. 



THE ROSE-TREE BY THE AVALL. 

How every rosebud's bursting bloom 

And every rose-leaf s fall 
Call to my mind my childhood's home 

And the rose-tree by the wall. 
29 



— 30 — 

To me it was a holy slirine 

Where silent worship rose 
To Heaven, — ^as its green branches twine 

And dewy buds unclose. 

How very dear its emerald leaves, 

How sweet its blossoms all, 
How my childish heart in fancy cleaves 

To the rose-tree by the wall. 

When morn her cheerful fragrance tiung, 
And the pearly, dripping dews 

Still mark where angels' breath has clung 
Deepening each petal' s hues : — 

My matin worship with the flowers, 
Blending our prayers for all, 

More deeply see and feel Heaven's powers 
At the rose-tree by the wall. 



PRAYER. 

' Tis a lifting of our thoughts 
To the angel world above us. 

' Tis a seeking of our spirits 

For the ones who used to love us. 

' Tis ascending to the heights 



— HI — 

Of our inmost earthly portal. 
' Tis i)eering tlirongh life' s casement 

To behold the bright immortal. 
'Tis a kneeling of the soul 

In its inner temple shrouded. 
'Tis a watch-light in life's window 

When our days and nights are clouded. 



ANSWER TO GERTRUDE'S VALEIN^TINE. 

" Mother, my darling, my weak Muse is trying 

To soar into Poesy's celestial domain. 
But, alas! far too callow her icings for such flying. 

She sinks back disheartened, — her efforts are rain. 
Mother, my darling, on fair Mount Parnassus, 

How oft with the Muses thou Jiast held sweet commune, 
Upborne to the stars on thy bright -winged Pegasus, 

Thy sircct song rouiin/ngled in hearenly tune. 

" Jfi'ther, )iiy dnrUug, unbiassed is thy daughter, 

Ilerfull heart is voiceless, her song is unsung ; 
Kind Nature the siceetest of melodies taught her. 

But forgot Jiow essential an eloquent tongue. 
Mother, my darling, love-lines are declaring 

By St. Valentine who the heart holds most dear, — 
Thou, Tiiou art the dearest, none other comparing 

With my soul's cherished Idol, my mother. Ma Mere." 

"Unblessed," didst thou say, while thy spirit im- 
mortal's 

On its wonderful way to heaven's diamond-bright 
portals i 



32 



"Unblessed," while its casket, — hazel eyes, auburn 

hair, 
Love's boon when you ask it with coral lips fair, — 

With the bright smiles oft lighting tliy pure lily 
brow \ 

(Thought's throne on thy forehead glows with love- 
liness now.) 

•'Unblessed," while thy mother and sisters all love 

thee, — 
One dearer (one brother with the angels above thee). 

Are you sure you have counted these blessings so 
sweet '\ 

Not the Mount of Parnassus with these can com- 
pete. 

Yet for one not accustomed u}) this mountain to ride 
The wild freaks of Pegasus as he sniffs in his 
pride, — 

I think you ride "splendid" and might even win a 

prize. 
If you avoid the dark rn vines, and with gentle 

slopes rise. 

Around Inspiration, with its bright currents tiowing, 
Wlien our glad hearts are lifted, — how far, we not 
knowin":, — 



83 



Laves our si)irits with sunlight, — illumines our soul 
With :i beauty resplendent, as we near the bright 
goal. 

AikI we sing as we near it, for our s^Dirits unbound 
Breathe in love's soft music from all Nature 
around. 

As the rose in its sweetness, each light zephyr baji- 

tizing,— 
So our souls' inspiration to Infinitude rising, — 

Till we love all of Nature, — every flower of the sod. 
Love infills us and lifts us to truth and to God. 



CHILDHOOD. 

Memory' s magic wand has touched me, 

Lifted back the veil of years. 
And again I sit 'mid childhood's 

Smiling joys and crystal tears. 
Joyous when my darling mother 

Kissed and placed me on her knee. 
Holy love beamed from her blue eyes. 

How it still iilows warm in me. 



34 



FroTii the great baptismal fountain 

Of God's love, my mother drew 
Forth its diamond, blissful essence, — 

Kept, yet poured, it on me, too. 
Then she told me wondrous legends, 

How the children — forty two — 
Told Elisha, "go up, bald-head," 

And the bears the children slew. 

Many other tales she told me, — 

' ' Golden Fleece, " " Red Riding Hood, ' 
As with wondering eyes I listened, — 

Hoped I always would be good. 
When she kissed me, on my pillow, — 

Heard me say my little prayer, — 
Taught me God was ever present. 

How I tried to see him there. 

Till my childish fancy saw him, — 

A man so tall, with hair so white, 
Falling o'er majestic shoulders, 

And a face all shining bright. 
Round and round the varying seasons 

Brought their own peculiar joys ; 
Winter with its ice and sleighing, 

AVell enjoyed by girls and boys. 

Father, sometimes stern and silent. 
When mv brotlKM's asked to go 



— 35 — 

Sleighing, with myself and sisters, 
Smiling, could not answer no. 

As overhead the stars were twinkling, 
AVrapped within our largest sleigh 

Merry hearts and bells were ringing, 
As we swiftly sped away. 

AVhat though Boreas blew upon us, 

And the snow flakes thickly fell. 
AVarm our hearts and gay our voices. 

Merrily jingling with the bells. 
How I see the winter mornings. 

As we trudged along to school. 
Feeling sure we' d have our lessons. 

And obey the teacher's rule. 

When the match was up for si)elling. 

Choosing sides both one and all, 
If I chanced to be the "Captain," 

My first choice was William Hall. 
And we always won the victory. 

Watching all with anxious eyes. 
For there's more in just the winning 

Thiui is thouglit of in the pi'ize. 

AVilliam was just two years older, — 
Both our eyes were lively grey, — 

Neitlier could be called a })eauty. 
Still wp boi-e tilt' ])i-ize away. 



— 36 - 

A V lien liad nearly passed tlie season, 

And our school must shortly close, 
How we saddened as we thought of 

The last day, — oh ! day of woes. 
All our winter's sports and pleasures, — 

All the charms a school life lends,- 
Little quarrels, prizes, treasures 

The last day so sadly ends. 

Then the parents of the scholars 

Found us in our best attire. 
Praised our wondrous recitations, 

Filled our childish hearts with fire, 
Burning high with emulation, 

All were anxious to excel. 
Thinking which of all the prizes 

We should get for learning well. 

AVhen the lessons all are over 
And our serious master rose 

To address ns for the last time,— 
How his color comes and goes. 

Sad our hearts and grave our faces, 
Feeling under sorrow's spell. 

Soon the diamond tear drop traces 

Down our cheeks. — we sob fn re well. 



SONG. 

Revel, little roses, levei, you wei-e born to-day, 
Zephyrs kiss them, kiss them quickly, ere they fade 

away, 
Revel, little I'oses, revel, with the fairies play, 
Wreathe Cupid's bow in all your sweetness, nor let 

his arrow stray. 
Revel while light and love and music in the land 

hold sway, 
And your georgeous colors painting natures' s brow 

so gay, 
Let your incense rise like fountains, and mingle in 

its spray 
Your sweetest perfume to us mortals, for hriet too 

is our stay, 
Blend your fragrance in one treasure, let it live 

alway 
Tn oiii' hearts, our hopes, our pleasures to an 

endless day. 



How insignificant is the tomb 
Where onr loved dead lies. 
Compared to that immortality 
Wliicli tells us Avhere they live. 
87 



AN OLD WELL. 

How beautifully the emerald moss lives in the 
dripping well. 

Each little arrowy point is crowned with the 
diamond's sparkling sjiell, 

It spurns the broad, clear light of day, clings to its 
shady dell, 

And from all tumult hides away here peacefully to 
dwell. 

Its quiet haunt no one invades except his thirst to 
quell, 

Then fondly leans upon the curb to see a moss- 
grown well. 



DEDICATION OF MARTHA'S ALBUM. 

These pages like a rose-tree smiling stand. 

Budding with liojjes and promises of flowers 

By the bland zephyrs of affection fanned. 

The petals opening fair 'midst youtirs bright 
hours. 

All trace within them words of kindness, too, 
And adulation pours her honeyed tone ; 

'Tis life's Eolian harp, each sound may woo, 

But charms when breathed on but by one alone, 
38 



SEEK AND FIND. 

How each day reveals new logic 

For the things it brings to light ; 
Like young birds unfledged and helpless, 

Gaining strength before their flight. 
So the mind of man advancing 

Step by step it upward tends ; 
Novel thoughts his soul entrancing, 

Love and wisdom with them blends. 

Many shadowy visions beckon 

Him to grasp them as they go ; 
Many are but deep delusions. 

Bringing to him naught but woe. 
Still the gems of earth are hidden, ■ /•; ^ 

Mixed with pebble, rock, and sand, 
Man must toil and search to find them, — 

Sort them with a master hand, — 

Grind them down to And their lustre, 

Polish every facet bright ; >:. ,; 

Then his jewels "will reward him p-'^y^ 

AVith their rich, reflecting liglit. ''i, ^ 
It is thus with gems of reason, 

Truths and logic, — pearls of thought, — 

Man must search, assay, and gather. — ...'.; 

Cast away what brings him naught. iii.T^ 

39 P-. 



A1N"0THEK, BOUQUET. 

Tlioii comest here breathing so purely 

The sweetest of incense from heaven ; 
Thou comest and bringest so surely 

The tribute affection has given. 
On thy bright shining petals there lingers 

The kiss that a loved one bestowed, 
And the impress of that dear one' s fingers 

Still glows — from her beauty that glowed. 

Oh ! I feel such a thrill as I press thee 

In the spirit-like form of a kiss ; 
In my love for the giver I bless thee, 

And that blessing returns me a bliss. 
I will bind thee in memory's bright casket 

With the strong golden cords of my love 
And this joy shall retui-n when I ask it, 

Which thy giver, — she only, — can move. 



THE RIVER. 

Last night T slept near by a playful river, 

Whose merry voice sped music on its way, 

Soft angel sounds on its bright lips did quiver 
And others came ere these had died away. 
40 



-41 



Our Afaiy came fioiii ITeaven to eaitli and l)f()iiu,ht 
her 

Entrancing har^) of nature here to phiy 
To (lancing wavelets of tlie gurgling water, 

Which murmur on so sweetly clay by clay. 
AVhen night's fair queen so brilliant shines at even, 

And holy slumbers all our senses koep, 
Tlie rippling waters make a dream of heaven. 

And angels whisper near us while we sleep. 



0]^" THE DEATH OF A FRIEND'S CHILD. 

A bright star has set, — all hushed is the gladness. 
That cmce beamed with love on her sweet che- 
rub face ; 
The cold hand of death has now shrouded in sad- 
ness 
The circle made glad by her bright winning 
grace. 
Oh ! sorrow not, friends she is born into glory. — 

Lives immortal in beauty on that upper shore ; 
She is gathered in love and has gone to those man- 
sions 
That are free from eartli's mournings an.l cares 
ever more. 



42 



But she sees you, — e'en now with kisses slie lin- 
gers 
To dry the sad tears from her mother s i)ale 
cheek, 
Soothes her father's pained brow with her small 
viewless fingers, 
Clasps her brother and sister, — how gladly 
she'd speak. 
A new guardian angel to you is now given. 

To sooth you and bless you with angelic love ; 
Time's swift rolling cycles soon Avill speed you to 
heaven, 
AVhere you'll dwell with your loved ones for- 
ever above. 



JESSE. 

Are thy earthly shackles broken ? 

Dost thou see the heavenly light ? 
Give, oh ! give to us a token 

That thou knowest all w^e write. 
Tell us of those heavenly mansions. 

Whisper in our doubting ears, 
That we, too, shall soon be ransomed. 

Death's the end of sighs and tears. 
AVhen dark shadows hover o'er us 



— 43 — 

And we groxie life' s sombre way, 
Pring thy spirit lamp before us 
And restore the light of day. 



ON FINDING A RING. 

AVhat is thine history, thou circlet of gold ? 

Art thou a token of friendship or love I 
What crowds around thee in memories of old, — 
A love that is dead, — a heart that's grown cold. 

Or a prayer that was wafted above i 

Who once possessed tliee ^ Was she fair and 
young 

And brilliant and gifted and noble and true t 
Wert thou a memento of ho]3es that had sprung 
Between two fond hearts that in earnestness hung 

O' er the vows that were plighted by you ? 

And these vows, — are they broken, forgotten, or 
dead i 
Or like some frail Howers that bloom soon to 
fade,— 
hi the morn of their life was their sweetness nil 

shed, — 
\iid ere tlie noon came their beauty had Hed 
To that li-rnve where sad memories ai'e laid ( 



44 



Or wert thou a gift but carelessly given 

On tlie impulse, as one gives a spray or a 
tlo\A^er, 
Forgotten perchance ere the stars of the even 
Sparkled brilliantly on the blue curtain of liea- 
ven, — 
Forgotten perchance in an hour. 

Thou art silent, — unmeaningly still dost thou 
shine, — 
No answer to all of my jDictures of thee ; 
All the griefs that are past, all the sunshines that 

twine 
Their bright rays around thee will never be mine. 
Little ring, thou art nothing to me. 



INFINITE LOYE. 

There's a love springs immortal in this spirit of 

ours. 
All blooming and fragrant with beautiful flowers. 
There pansies and roses and sweet lilies bloom 
Untouched by the world and unscathed by the 

tomb. 
This ego, this soul, is an atom of God ; 
I know, for it lifts me above the dark clod 



45 



Which encases my spirit and, tho' confined here, 
God-seeking I go to that radiant sphere. 
And, tho' I can't grasp that Infinite Soul, 
Can a drop in the ocean know what is the whole ? 
So God is in all things, from sand-dust to sun. 
This presence progresses them all as they run. 
When truth, love, and beauty are in our soul; 

blending, 
God's presence is felt in a love that's unending. 



JOSEPHINE. 

My life is a mine of bright gems 

Of beauty the purest and rarest • 
Or a rose-tree, its numerous stems 

Bearing flowers the sweetest and fairest 
My Phenie is one of a cluster 

Of roses and gems intertwining. 
The fount of all life gives the lustre 

To eyes that grow brighter with shining, 

My tree with its blossoms so new 

Will develop and change day by day ; 

Life's sun will drink up its dew, 

Life's storms fade its colors away. 

But they still are my gems :ind my roses 



46 



In the soil of my heart they all bloom, 
Where their aromal soul-light reposes, 

AVhere I breathe all their richest perfume. 

My life thus divided still treml)les 

Towards the wonderful source of its being 
It is twined by these close-clinging tendrils, 

Whom I guard with a mother's foreseeing. 
I know they' re but drops from His fountain, 

But sparks from His lustre divine ; 
I would lead them high up on life's mountain, 

In goodness and mercy to shine. 

I would make with the angels a compact 

To watch o'er my jewels so rare ; 
To impress them with thoughts that are holy, 

Baptized with their pure love and care ; 
To keep all their paths free from danger ; 

To lead them towards God and His love ; 
To meet me where life is eternal, 

In that beautiful home-lio;ht above. 



m 



BELOVED. 

All ! tliere have been days when adversity' s fangs 
Were crushing my spirit' s repose ; 

That the pain was unheeded, — unnoticed tlu 
pangs,— 
With thy friendship, unfelt were its throes. 

I could smile while the arrow was piercing my soul. 

With mA' eyes turning fondly on thee, 
Like the martyr whose body the Hames may con- 
trol 

Yet his spirit like mine is still free. 



MY MOTHER'S BRIDAL ROBE. 

This garment, sainted mother, did thy youthful 

form enshrine, 
"When vows of love were spoken by that low, sweet 

voice of thine. 
When the roses in thy blushes, and the love-light 

in thine eyes, 
Told how deep and true the feeling which received 

those sacred ties. 
47 



48 



How thine inmost soul was shining with a, piireness 

all its own, 
How Ills love around thee twining made your lives 

and fortunes one. 
Thus its every fold was clinging to that giuceful 

form of thine, 
And thy thoughts were upward winging towards a 

happiness divine. 

Now I picture roses glowing, nestling closely to thy 

breast, 
And thy silken robe is Howing, twining thee in fond 

caress. 
And thy glad, true-hearted husband clasps with joy 

thy willing hand, — 
All his heart's deep love was given with that sacred 

wedlock l)and. 




LOVE. 

Thoughts of love are day-dream roses, 
Pei'f liming life with fragrant smiles ; 
Lifting care till hope reposes 
In the heart all sweet and mild. 
Then the soul looks out and wonders. 
What of care:! and what of strife? 
One corrodes, the other sunders 
All the symi^athies of life. 
Then adieu to care and sorrow, — 
Then adieu to all that mars 
All our joys,— for on each morrow 
Hope shall point l:)eyond tlie stars. 



COUPLET ON RECEIVING SOME ROSES. 

Spirit aroma ascending from these fragrant roses 

sweet, 
With our heart-throbs they are blending, — life To 

life in beauty meet. 



49 



TRANSITION. 

The finest tints of rainbow hues fade soon, 

The flower still dripping with the evening dews 

Shuts up its lovely petals ere 'tis noon, 

Abashed, it doth Sol's brightest gaze refuse. 

And yet amidst the angry storm there stand 

The oaks' huge branches which resist its x^ower, 

The rocks whose cliffs high raised above the land 
Defy the whirlwind in its maddening hour. 

The oak and cliff less beautiful, again 

Endure, nor pain nor pleasure do they give ; 

But Flora' s beauteous' many-tinted train 

Revives and thrills us, then they cease to live. 

Even so in life, our love is but a breath, — • 

A shade enchanting, which may fade away, — 

A flower, if breathed on by repulsive death, 
Or rudely handled, withers in a day. 

How strong the cord which binds the hearts that 
love. 
But when too harshly strained we snap the 
string, 
And, though affections may no farther rove. 
Accept the fate indifference may bring. 



50 



EVER NEAR THEE. 

My spirit steals softly beside thee at morn. 
And I waft the sweet slumbers away, 

That have wreathed thy loved brow with the smiles 
that adorn 
Those sonl-beaming- features today. 

My spirit steals softly beside thee at noon. 
When the wretched thy sympathy share, 

As they feel thou art gone from their presence too 
soon. — 
I join with thy spirit in prayer. 

When the gay and the lovely bright glances aiv 
throwing. 

As they gracefully move through the dance, 
So near thee my spirit its love is besowing. 

That their arrows must fall off askance. 

My spirit steals softly beside thee at even. 
When thy head on its pillow reclines, 

And I close down thy lids with warm kisses that 
Heaven 
Shall illume with bright visions thy mind. 



51 



MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN. 

My youth's brightest day-star, my mother, my 

own, — 
Ever since from the eartli thy loved spirit has 

flown, 
My sad heart weej^s lonely, no joy now appeal's, 
But soon is extinguished in sorrow and tears, — 
When to my young gaze the bright sunlight 1 

see, — 
How much more than this light was my mother 

to me. 

If music enchanted my heart to rejoice 

How much more than its raptures to me was her 

voice. 
As around this lone eartli our wanderings are made, 
We find none like thee to bring light out of shade. 
So time fleet thy rounds, for when from earth riven 
We shall dwell with our mother forever in heaven. 



52 



MUSES. 

Calliope, goddess of epic art, 
From tliee all inspirations start. 

Olio, with history's open roll, 

Hath chained events and marked each goaL 

Euterpe, with her flute and lyre, 
Spreads widely love's poetic tire. 

Melpomene, with her tragic mask, 
Describes true art to all who ask. 

Terpsichore, with her song and dance, 
Most deftly throws love's dangerous lance„ 

Erato's invitations rare 

Are sought by many young and fair. 

Polymnia, muse of hymn sublime, 
Our sacred thoughts to thee incline. 

llrnnin, from the stai-ry heaven, 
H;is many lessons to us given. 

Thalia's light and merry laugh 
Bids care depart and pleasure quaff. 

Thus enraptured in turn by the tuneful nine 
We are charmed willi ;in influence almost divine. 



53 



A ROSE TREE. 

I had a rose-tree once, "tvvas fair, 'twas beautiful, 

Its tlowers of creamy white liun<^ their rich fra- 
grance 

O'er the ambient air, as by its parent stem erect 

It stood with face unturned to lieaven. 

Above bright angels spread their glittering pinions, 

And it partook of their ethereal lustre. 

I Ivuelt l^eside it, watered it with tears from rich 

Affection s deepest, holiest fount; 

When I saw angels loved also its blossoms fresh- 
ened ])y the 

Diamond drops of heaven's own sympathy, 

How deep, how pure, how holy was my worship. 

A fell destroyer's ruthless act cut down the parent 

stock, — 
My lovely rose-tree now began to wither and di-ooj) 

its 
Sweet young head. — mourning the ])arent stem 

which had 
Supported it and sci'eened it from 
The wind's rude caresses. 

Bereft and lonely, my care I then renewed. 
Fain to supply the loss by kindly fostering. 
U.OW I invoked the weeping spirits of the (clouds 
54 



--55 — 

To shed tlieir dewy tears on my fair rose ; — 
Prayed the God of nature would with strength 

invigorate 
And cause it once again to raise 
ts blossoms bright to heaven. 



ON THE DEATH OF MY FIRST GRAND- 
CHILD. 

Little gem of purest beauty 

Briefly to our fond hearts given, — 

Brightest angels saw and set thee 
Shining on the brow of heaven. 

In that future our beholding 

Shall l)e dazzled by thy power, 

For tlie gift of tliy unfolding 
Is to all the s})irit's dower. 

Could we lift our mind's dark curtain 
And behold thy sj^irit charms. 

How enraptured we'd enfold thee, 
Sweetest chernl), in our arms. 



TO A YOUNG FRIEND WEEPING. 

We learn from bitter years of yearning 

That happiness is not of earth. 
' Tis from our spirits' deep discerning 

The power from God which gives it liirth. 

Where is that mortal free from sorrow, 

Though blessed with wealth and earthly power ? 

Fate's book may turn a leaf to-morrow, 

Which brings a sad and darkened hour. 

Life cannot be (what youth would have it, — 
All joy), with glittering baubles spread. 

All bright, with music, song, and wit, 
All flowery i^aths for duty' s tread. 

Then face the clouds. Watch for the lining, 
Their silvery side you soon may see ; 

Their golden glorious colors twining 

The shadow round, which saddened thee. 



56 



THE BROOK. 

By the gurgling brook I'm sitting, 

Seated on its mossy side ; 
Beauteous birds are near me flitting, 

Singing vespers at eventide. 
O'er the west a cloud of silver 

Softly veils the setting sun. 
And its golden fringes quiver 

On the glowing horizon. 

When my feet are softly i3ressing 

Nature' s emernld carpet fine, 
When cool zephyrs are caressing, — 

Kissing me with lips divine, — 
When above in the blue ether. 

Gemmed with stars, the queen of night 
Blandly beams on all beneath her, 

With her diadem's pale light, — 

When around, above, below me 

Is God's wisdom and his power, 

I am happy, for they show me 
Love is but the spirit's dower. 



57 



TO MY SPIRIT FRIENDS. 

Oil ! while I wait in darkness here, 

Insphered in mortal coil 'mid tears, 
My dear ones, who have gone before, 
Who stand upon that upper shore, 
Bend down your listening ears. 

Oh ! let me tell how oft I see 

The wonders of celestial skies, 
Their glorious brightness so refined, 
Too dazzling for the mortal mind. 
Too pure for mortal eyes. 

And yet methinks beneath this shell 

• There is an eyesight not of life, 
An inner sense that feels and knows, — 
The spirit reaching, as it grows 
Awaj^ from earthly strife. 

Oh ! is it this that makes me feel 

And see the loved ones from that land, 
AVhere they have journeyed long ago, 
.Vnd God's high x>nrpose rightly know, — 
A happy si)irit band ? 

I would not hasten his decree ; 

Would live the years that are my store 
But joys immortal I can see 
58 



Encased iu dust; though chained I be, 
I mount to tliat bright upper shore. 



ESTELLA. 

Yes, my daughter, sweet Estella, 

Did I net those bhie eyes fringe? 
Did I not those lips of coral 

AVith their sweetness also tinge I 
Like the purest alabaster, 

Thy light form spread o'er and o'er 
With a milk-white, soft envelope, 

Breathing life at every i^ore. 

Then thy beauteous brow with golden, 
AVavy tresses loosely spread. 

Like a fairy of llie olden. 

With tlie suidight on her head. 

When the angels saw my brilliant 

In its casket shining set, 
Came and with a heavenly radiance 

Looked and smiled a fond regret — 
Tliat they here awhile must leave her 

To develop, to unfold, 
l^ut Iheir guardian care they give her 

As tilt' angels did of old. 



SOUL LOVE. 

Love not, love not the j)erisliing niortnl ; 

Love ye the spirit, love ye the mind. 
Life's fmil form to earth's dim port;il, 

Though beautiful, must be consigned. 
Life enshrined in this weak casket 

Will prove fading, must decay. 
Ask not love. Why should ye ask it i 

When so soon "twill fade :i\v;iy. 

Selfish love twines in its lightness. 
With egotism around one shrine, 

Nor covering (as it should) witli brightness 

Earth's lone ones 'neatli its sheltering vine. 

Deep, earnest love from souls ascending- 
Lights up the Avay from earth to heaven, 

Where with blest spirits ever bleiidiug 

We reap the joys God's love has given. 



60 



THE HO^rK OF MY CHILDHOOD. 

There's a spot in lliis wovld, 'tis the home of my 
cliildliood, 
More saci-cd. more piii'e tlian on earth can be 
found. 
How bright was its verdure, liow various its wihl- 
wood. 
Wliere lieudoclv and maple and cedar al)ound. 

The c)ak, too, s^jread out his In'oad arms to the 
weather. 
Inviting the contiict "twixt him and the storm ; 
By conquest emboldened, he combats to gather 

Xew strength from the winds as tliey sway Iris 
huge form. 

With Nature's own music tlie green boughs were 
ringing, 
Each songster, self-taught, sweetly Joins in tlie 
lays. 
From their lovc-uotcs of joy their melodies spring- 
ing, 
They tunefully trill in the anthem of i^raise. 

Willi beauty (piiic silent — yet speaking — the 
flowers. 
With their fiices uptui'ued to the god of the 
sky, 

CI 



m 



Look tlieir liyniiis of devotion witli eloquent 
2)Ower, — 
Xo i)rinre of the earth with tlieir glory may vie. 

( )li ! how can I paint that bright season of gladness, 
When Spring with her Horal train Aei'dantly 
gleams I 
The white lambs were skipping, and the held where 
they gamboled 
SX^i'ead its soft emerald cai-pet to the verge of 
the streams. 

Those bright, rij^pling waters in tlieir ])rogress 
meandering 
Along that loved green which our cottage en- 
closed, 
And when laid on my pillow at night its soft gur- 
gling 
Lulled my senses to taste of the sweets of 
repose. 

How lovely the lawn and how verdant the mea- 
dows, 
Where the cattle were feeding. And, ah I the 
grass newly mown, — 
As evening approached, how the tall giant shadows 
Fell across the new hay, as 'twas (carefully 
strown. 



— 68 — 

On the liillside the orchards stood fruitful and 
glowing 
With apples and peaches, — red, russet, and 
white, — 
The plums that were crimson, the ground they were 
strowing, — 
To , childhood' s bright fancy how enchanting 
the sight. 

How placidly beamed the mild brow of my father, 
As he cheerfully supped when the day's toil 
was o'er. 
Contented, his smiles told, with peace he would 
rather 
Enjoy his loved home than all earth's golden 
store. 

Although burdened with care, the sweet face of my 
mother 
Shone radiant with smiles, and her blue, lus- 
trous eyes 
Told the love and the care could be felt by no other 
Save her who watched o'er ns like one from the 
skies. 

Time has sped on his car and througli luany years 
wandered, 
The world's jitful sunshine ;ind storm Imvebeen 
mine. 



— 04 — 

TliH pathway of life with its caivs I've mraiuh-ied. 
Yet no liome of my cliildhood slicd its l)l('ssiii^- 
divine. 

Long, long since, my i)iii'«iits, I've felt thy protec- 
tion ; 
Long, long since tliy counsel and love I liave 
known ; 
Yet wlien bright hopes lie withered {on blest retro- 
spection), 
My menior}^ dwells fondly on days that have 
Hown. 



ON KP^CEIVING A EOSE FROM A LITTLE 
STRANGER. 

A noble boy, his black eyes shining. 
Gave me this lovely, fragrant rose. 

'I'lie dark brown curls his fair brow tAvining 
Are tossed by zei)liyrs as he goes. 

And all unconscious of his beauty. 

Which beams from out his soul-lit eye, 

lie skips and plays, never once heeding 
Admiring looks from i)assers-by, — 



Go 



Unconscious as tlie rcxse lie gave nie, 

He only feels his own glad heart, 
Which revels in an unknown feelino- 

o 

That of this life he forms a X)art. 

Sweet boy, may angels guard and guide thee. 
Lead thee where peace forever flows, 

-^^1^^ joy in brightness twine around thee 

And keei> thee pure, like thine oavu rose. 



SOXNET. 

I wonder if she ever thinks 

Of those bright roseate bowers, 

Where we have sat together oft 
And passed the golden hours. 

I wonder if she ever thinks 

Of her ringing laugh of glee. 

Which echoes on the harp of time 
And brings her back to me. 

r wonder if she ever thinks 
TIow from her ;izure eye 

My spii'it drank its light of love 

Till it's gHin-likc foiiiif was dry 



— f)6 — 

I wonder if slie ever thinks 

How love's x:)ersistent llanie 

Absorbed my every tlionght and wisli 
In her one worshipped name. 

I wonder if she ever thinks 

How inuch she was to bhime, 

To tnrn from me and all my love 
And wed to wealth and fame. 



A PLEA FOR PEACE. 

Oh, angel of peace ! thy long abseni^e deploring, 

We sigh the retnrn of thy presence once more. 
We will give a glad welcome to thy smiles, restoring 
Thine own gentle light to our war-d;irkened 
shore. 
Oh, come ! our fair land lies bleeding, and keeping 
Our homes and our loved ones l)y sonow })owed 
down, 
Our widows are mourning, our orphans are weep- 

And darkness obscures all the i-ays from thy 
crown. 

Oh, Peace! art thou crushed, as witli white drooj)- 
ing pinions 



67- 



Tlioii watcliest the dread storm of battles array '. 
Slia.ll the wars tlmnder on, and hate's dark domin- 
ions 
Claim our nation's best life-ljlood and waste it 
away? 
Dost thou not see tlie parting of loved (dies \vlio lan- 
guish, 
With fear and despair for their warriors so 
dear % 
Dost thou mark on the brow of our country the 
anguish 
Of liope long deferred, which thou oidy canst 
cheer ? 

Tlien come to the hearthstones from whence t^iou 
wert banished. 
And bless with thy presence this grief-stricken 
land, 
liring the "good will to men" which from us had 
vanished, 
And reach forth the olive branch in thy fair 
hand. 



IMPROMPTU. 

My friends, I bid ye all adieu. 
Smiles of fortune be with you, 
Kindly faces ever meet you, 
Loving arms reach forth to greet you, 
Friendship's silken cords e'er bind you, 
Love's gold arrows ever fmd you, — 
Praise from lips that love to si)eak it, — 
Money come where ye don' t seek it. 
Life's I'ough waves for you be even 
And anchor safe at last in heaven. 



LIFE. 

Our life is like a rapid stream meandering on its 

way ; 
For, if awake, in sleep, or drtnims, 'lis always night 

or day. 
Alternately eacli comes and goes nor checks Ihe 

rapid ilow 
Of suiiles and fi'owns, of joys and woes. All make 

up life below. 



r,8 



TTIY GUARDIAN ANGEL. 

From supernal bowers, 
Wliere immortal llowers 

Bloom in their sweetness, 
Comes an angel bright. 
In her robes of white, 
Basking in the light 

Of her heaven' s completeness. 

Garlanded with truth, 
The beauty of yonth 

Lights her brow with love celestial. 
Around her willowy form 
Glows a halo bright and warm, — 
'Twould illumine every storm 

Of the globe terrestrial. 

Her oAvn jmre mother love. 
From that holy world above, 

Clasps her son in fond caresses. 
And when sleep his senses seals 
(And worldly thoughts in vain apjieal). 
To his inmost soul reveals 

How that future life can l)less us. 

Think, through all this weary life, 
l-'illcfl with S01T0W, ])aiii. and sti'ife, 
CD 



70 — 



That lliy mother calls thee higher, - 
Tells thee of her heavenly home, 
AVhere joys immortal ever bloom, 
AY here she waits her son to come 

To join her in God's angel choir. 



LONG AGO. 

Memories of the long ago, — 
Ba( k thro' many a winter s snow, 
Back to childhood's hai)py hour, 
When a light heart was my dower, 
Back thro' years that since have tied ; 
A'olumes lived, yet will be read, 
Wh-en tlie heart recalls the dead. 
The dear, lost long ago. 

In that long ago I trace 
Many a sweet and smiling face, 
:\rany a brilliant, noble mind, 
Many a form by grace entwined. 
In my childhood' s picture there 
View I one with mind so rare, — 
One who meteor-like thro' the air 
Passed me long ago. 



71 — 

Little knew I wliy 'twais given, — 
Just a beauteous flash from heaven, 
llow in the years that come and go 
Thy truth should only brightness know^ ; 
So, when drifting down life's tide, — 
Many a rough wave forced to ride, — 
How happy to be dashed beside 
The friend of long ago. 

Long ago is past — and yet — 
Passed witli many a vain regret; 
Gone with many a snule and tear, 
Varied with each passing year. 
Ah ! the symi^athetio Avord 
From thy heart so soon is stirred. 
Only tones so mild are heard 
From thy voice of long ago. 

Blessings on thy kindly face. 
Filled with eloquence and grace, 
Lighted by tlij^ soulful eyes, 
Welcome as the starry skies. 
Hai)py is the day we met, — 
Happy we could ne'er forget 
Our first meeting lingering yet 

In the sweet, the dear old long ago. 



ETERNAL LIGHT. 

There is a land of light above, 

Where joy marks every hearth ; 

Where God's eternal, heavenly love 
Dispels tlie cares of Earth. 

There is a land of love and flowers, 
All brilliant in their bloom ; 

That land, poor pilgrim, too, is ours, 

Through that dark door, — the tomb. 

That land no sun nor moon rellects, 

As on this earthly ball ; 
Prom God a beauteous sunlight streams 

Direct through every soul. 

There worldly passions enter not 

That blest abode of light ; 
We nothing take from sorrow' s cup 

To mar a world so bright. 

We live, and never mark the hours, 
Nor count the flight of time, 

For earthly hopes are blooming there, 
In fragrance all divine. 



72 



TO MRS. S. OIS^ CLAIMING TO BE MY 
SEVENTH DAUGHTER. 

Fate when not an infant brought lier 
Here, to claim her phice with me. — 

Here, to be my seventli daughter. 
Seventh daughter slie shall l)e. 

Consanguinity not always 

Gives a symj^athy of mind ; 
But by soul to soul related,— 

Thus our love is intertwined. 

And througli life our spiral pathway, 

As it nears the fount of love, 
Sliall groAv stronger, shall grow brighter, 

Till we live in heaven above. 



REMEMBERED. 

I never, never can forget 

Thy soul's deep looks of love; 
They're beaming on my spirit yet. 

Like angel lights above. 

I never, never can forget 

Thy soft and thrilling tones ; j-J^, 

73 



m 



x---^ 



74 



Their luuisic haiiislies regret 

. And soothes my sorrowing moans. 

'I'hougli fate the darl^ened die lias cast 

O' er all our future lives, 
And thy dear presence cannot last, 

Its memory still survives. 

Alone deep in my inmost heart 
Thy cherished image fills 

So much of life, — its sweeter part 
From thee its joy distills. 

A })eacon star of heavenly light 

Above life's stormy sea 
Is what I find whene'er I turn 

To memories of thee. 



ON IVIY VERSES COPIED BY ONE OF MY 
CHILDREN. 

The few pictures I have written 

You have copied, dear child, here. 

They will cheer you if you hit on 
Their philosophy ; 'tis near, — 

Near to teach you love and wisdom 

And forbearance towards the world ; 



t^tJT'i^ 



— 75 — 

Near to tell }'oii that in x>i*ogress 

The soul" s banners are unf nrled. 

Be ye calm, mild, and collected ; 

Learn to govern tirst your mind ; 
Tlien your sweet face, when reflected. 

Will impart its influence kind 
On those dear ones. You, like roses, 

Beauty's sweetness give and take. 
In this art the truth reposes, 

If your liapi)iness j^ou'd make. 



THE CLOSING LIFE.* 

How I sit above the shadows 

Of life's swiftly i)assing years, 
Viewing from this height the springtime 

Of my childhood's joj's and fears. 
Seeing, too, the summer's flowers. 

As I breathed their fragrance bright. 
When m}' life was in its fulness. 

When my strength was in its might. 

Further on I trace life's journey, 

Wlien the autumn fruit was ripe ; 

Supposed to have breii written shortly before lier deatl 



76- 



Golden rays of sunset gleaming, — 
Of my life how sweet a type. 

Now 'neatli winter's leafless bowers 
I am resting. Cold and bare 

Are the branches I have cherished, — 
Grone to meet and greet me there. 

Dear ones, see me reaching towards you, 

Mother, husband, loved ones all ! 
See ! the night of age is i)assing, 

Youth will come at morning' s call. 
How I view the long procession 

Of my loved and lost of yore, 
Straining my dim eyes to see them. 

As Tm pressing to that shore. 

Soon this soul will break its casket. 

Soon on wings I' 11 soar away, 
Soon the border-land of heaven 

Will turn my night to endless day. 
Soon I'll drop this age- worn mantle, — 

Clothed in spirit robes so bright. 
Freed from every earthly shackle, 

Bursting forth to glorious light. 

Sweet friends, draw aside the curtain, 
Meet me at the open door, 
Clasp my hands and bear me over 

Where the lisjht shines evermore. 



Welcome, death ! I do not fear thee ; 

For it is but by thy love 
I shall gain a life eternal 

In that land of peace above. 

I shall find one of those mansions, 

Which hath been prepared for me ; 
I shall feel at home in heaven, 

And all its wondrous glory see. 
But I'll not forsake my children, 

Even in all that bliss above ; 
Daily I shall breathe unto them : 

" Love each other,"" " God is love ! " 



PRIDE. 

Pride has its uses, — one of bitter cost: 

To check our friendship when its labor s lost ; 

To raise us when 'neath stern injustice' frown, 
And would-be greatness tries to ynt us down. 

Pride should the servant, not the master, be 
(Far more becoming is humility); 

But sometimes in it is our best defence,— 
AVhen impudence mates up with lack of sense 



78- 



When those we've loved doth meet us with a frown 
And cast the gem of friendship from their (n-own ; 

When your warm greeting s cruslied l)y stiffened 

lip, 
And hearty hand-shake met by linger-tip ; 

Wlien eyes of love meet stony eyes that stare ; 
When your frank look sees eyes that gaze on air ; 

When every act unto you plainly states 
Friendship's dissolved, and in the dregs lies hate. 

" Tis then our jpride with dignity combined 
Will bid us smile on fate, and be resigned. 



ROSES. 

These are but the seeming fair 

Of the roses everywhere ; 

!N"ature smiles from field and grove, 

Thrills our souls witli God' s own love 

How we worship beauty' s dower, 

When its grace adorns this flower. 

Each soft fragrance charms tlie soul, 
As their petals bright unroll. 
What a world of work they do : 



Teacliing- lovers how to woo, 
Garlanding tlie wedding feast, — 
Types of purity and j^eace. 

Triumphant wreathe the victor s brow 
(Joyous shouts will greet them now), 
In the chambers of the ill, 
Still their mission they fulfill ; 
Silent, watching by the bier, 
Drooping towards the dead so dear ; 

Making with their perfume sweet 
Such a beauteous winding sheet. 
Pointing with their speaking eyes 
The grief-stricken to the skies ; 
Showing how His love has given 
Flowers to strew the path to heaven. 



THE SPIDER. 

With Nature's voice to guard and guide her, 

How great a miracle' s a spider ; 

Her silken cord forever weaving. 

As from this place to that she's leavinp; 

Who taught this curious insect tiny, 

To build a home so light and shiny ; 

So skilled in geometric measure. 



— 80 — 

So lormed for use as well as pleasure ? 
Proudly she shows her pretty home, 
Inviting wandering flies to come, 
And from her parlor view the sky. 
And her luxurious hammock try. 
Oh, insect wily ! Fie ! for shame ! 
To make your guest your hunted game. 



COROLINN. 

Today, my dear Linnie, your sj^irit comes home, 

And clasps me in gladness as it used to of yore ; 
I feel your soft breath and sweet lips as you come, 

And again kiss my darling so many times o'er. 
The old times come back when my wee baby prize 

Attracted us all by her dimples and smile, 
And her azure eyes shone with a questioning sur- 
prise. 

Saying, "What are you doing to baby the 
while I " ' 

Your brother and sisters all hastened to greet you 
With kisses of love and child-wondering eyes ; 

Impatiently asked, "Oh ! where did you get her? 
Did she come from the earth or direct from the 

skies I ' ' 



81 



Tlie years have i)assed swiftly and ])i-()iiglit with 
them changes, 
A woman, a matron, my Linnie is now ; 
But absence, nor time, nor distance estranges 

The love of thy mother,— God's seal on thy 
brow. 



RAIN. 

Hf)w musical the rain-drops, 

As they pearl their way along ; 
All conscious of their gladness. 

They sing a joyous song. 
The pillow of the sleeper 

By enchantment is made sweet, 
As half in dreams he listens 

To the rain-drops' imttering feet. 
Welcome, sweet sound 
Of rain, come bound, 
Come softly fall 
And soothe us all 
To Morj^heus' embrace. 
Oh ! give us dreams 
And brightest gleams 
Of trutirs pure dianumd face. 



^,^7^^. 



8:? 



I wonder if in sleep profound 

Our inmost spirit is unbound. 

And, while this form unconscious lies, 

Our spirits rise unto the skies. 



CUPIDON. 

Xo matter how wise, how ]^^)retty, or stu[)id, 
Each person in turns gets worried l)y Cupid. 
Xew friendships and absence applied to the heart 
AVill banisli the mischief and he will depart. 



THE aOLDEX RULE. 

Do unto others as ye would that thny should do to 

yon, 
Is the Golden Rule our Saviour taught to Gentile 

and to Jew ; 
He taught that love, unselfisli love, should in our 

hearts hold sway 
For friends and enemies alike; <"iii we the rule 

obey i 



88 



Can we ol)ey it in the world where we jostle in the 

throng, 
And meet tlie various forms of life, — the ricli, tlip 

weak, the strong '. 
( 'an WH reach our hands with loving grasp and raise 

UX> those who fall, 
And dry the tears from mourners" eves, and aid and 

comfort all \ 

Can we lielp the weak, and helj) the strong (for we 

can sliow our care 
And sympathy with those who strive for worldly 

honors here) \ 
Can feel no envy, malice, hate, e'en for our worst of 

foes, — 
Witli patience l)id sweet Pity's eyes all on their 

faults unclose \ 

We must brace our hearts, if they gi-ow weak, by 

saying "God is Love"; 
Tlien count the blessings He has given, around. 

below, above. 
Must tliink what we ourselves would like, when 

doubtful thoughts arise : 
Tlieii will our judgments suit the words descended 

from the skies. 

( )h I may we s^^rive with earnestness and every force 
of will 



— 84 — 

To let the precepts given here thro' all our lives 

instil. 
Oh ! may we bless the time, the place that hroiio-ht 

this rule so olden 
To guide the way our feet should tread, by its own 

light so golden. 



THE GIFT OF A RING. 

About the sayings and doings of others I care not, 
Since my long absent friend has sent me a garnet • 
'Tis a brilliant, a beauty, a gem of a thing 
And a tyx)e of true love is my bright little ring. 

I will keej) it and wear it and think of the past, — 
A memento of that which forever shall last. 
May no mark of unkindness it from me e'er sever. 
But remain the true circle of friendship forever. 



JANUARY 1ST, 1862. 

Hail! All Hail, New Year! Welcome, thou infant 

link of time ! 
How comest thou "i Are thine eyes l^right, 
Undimmed bv tears of sorrow ^ 



85- 



(yoiiiHst thou witli rosy lijjs of love, 

Thrilling with the kiss of affection for all Eartli's 

children 'i 
For thou comest to all, — 
The high, the low, the rich, the poor. 
The bond, the free, the wise, the ignorant. 
The joyful, and the sorrowful all hail thy coming. 
To them thou art the beacon light of hope, 
Eacli praying thou mayest ])ring the dawn of peace : 
Each praying thou mayest X)our oil on the troTibled 

waters 
Now dashing on our storm-tossed Ship of State, 
Almost wrecked on the rocks of dissension and di-<- 

union. 
Oh, Spirits of the departed heroes of the Revolu- 
tion ! 
Come to us on this Xew Years day ! 
Come and bring the holy influences of peace that 
Surround you on the upper sliores of Eternity 
Impress our leaders Avith your wise, sti-ife-healing 

influences. 
Give them a love for unity and 2)ea('e, — 
That unity which characterized tlie councils of our 

forefathers, 
luring, oil, our departed fathers ! tlie 
Balm of peace to this dear land of ours. 



THOUGHTS AT NIAGARA.* 

Far behind the sheet of lucid pearls 

Of snowy, foaming, crystal water, 

Grew this emerald hair 

Upon the head of that huge rock-giant 

Who has stood still e'er since creation's morn, 

As if to listen to the music of Niagara. 

Entranced, he smiles forever, 

As he beholds on bended knee 

The mighty torrents worshi^J ; 

'Twould seem that this inanimate 

Must feel the glow of animation 

AVhen the bright and beauteous sunlight, 

Flashing 'midst the million diamonds 

Which bind with fairy wreath 

His stern, majestic forehead, crowns him 

With more than conqueror's diadem. 

* Suggested by a piece of moss I gathered fnjiu a rock, beliiiid 
the great sheet of water at Niagara Falls 



86 



MY SPIRIT BIRTH. 

\Mien I am an angel, 

Shed no tear of sorrow ; 
Lay this earthly casket 

Early on the morrow 
In earth' s loving bosom, 

To become a part 
Of external Nature, 

Thro])bing in her heart. 

When I am an angel, 

Do not think me dead. 
For this happy spirit. 

From the body fled. 
Lives in light and beauty, 

Clasps forevermore 
The dear ones gone before me 

To that blissful shore. 

Let no weeds of mourning- 
Mar the happy day, 

When you lay this body 
In the earth away ; 

Smile that I am happy ; 

Smile that you will come 

To these spheres of beauty, 
To our spirit home. 



87 



MY CHILDREN. 

Were all the gems of all the earth, 

Crown-brilliants to me given, 
One gem immortal from its birth 

Is worth them all, — and seven 
Are more than wealth, or power, or ""ame, 

The Indies, East and W-st, 
Or richest mines with diamond tiame 

Or flashing jewel's crest. 

What thongh I'm poor in worldly wealth, 

I will not be repining, 
My every jewel of itself 

Immortal is,— in shining; 
And time can never change or mar 

These brilliants God has given ; 
Their light to me a radiant star. 

May prove a snn in heaven. 



S8 



NATURE. 

1 love the first roses of summer, 

Before their bright petals unfold. 

I love the first gushes of sweetness, 

Which burst from buds crimson and gold. 

I love the first glimpses of morning, 

As tlie day-dawn streaks o'er the grey sky, 

Growing golden and purple each moment, 

As the day-god' s glad presence draws nigh. 

I love tlie hrst lone star of evening, 

As it glitters on night's sombre brow, — 

A herald that millions of others 

Will follow and sparkle as now. 

I love the young moon as its crescent. 
Like an infant, lies cradled in white ; 

All the stars seem so happy in watching 
To see its pure face gleam with white. 



'Tis only a simjile flower, only a simple flower, 

But the magical spell of its beauty is held 
In each chalice, with wonderful power. 



89 



MELODIA. 

Deep within tlie holy temple 

Of my inmost heart of hearts, 

Shrined thy form is and my worship 
Is from all the world apart. 

There in true devotion kneeling, 

With exalted thoughts and mind, 

In one sigh of purest feeling- 
All my soul to thee' s inclined. 

Now I hear melodious music, 

' Tis thy sweet entrancing tone, 

Spell-bound as I sit and listen, 
All life' s day to me is shown. 

Morning, noonday, twilight' s vanished ; 

Evening shadows find me still 
In the earth form, waiting, watching 

For the bidding of His Avill. 

Watching for these worn out shackles, 
Soon to break and set me free ; 

Bring me strength and youth and hetiven. 
Bring me once again to thee. 



90 



FANCIES. 

As brilliant fancies come and go, 
So beauteous in their seeming;. 

They're heralds to this world of woe 
That noiG we're only dreaming. 

We raise great temples to the skies, 
Which vanish ere completed, 

The airy mists from which they rise 
Take varying forms repeated. 

Hope shines on all, — and all aglow 
With wondrous colors blending. 

They fade, — and show this world below 
Shall sometime have an endino-. 



TO A GRIEVING FRIEND. 

Why is dark sorrow on thj^ brow \ 
Why bid me wait in dread the history, 
Uncertain what grief records now. 
Whether 'tis death or doom, — a mystery. 
If death, she is not dead, 

AYho in thy infancy hath jDillowed thy young head. 
Who, ever faithful to her trust and care. 
First taught thy infant knee to bend in prayer,— 
91 



02 



First fondly watched tlie genius that entwined 
Bright gems of thought around thy yonthful nnnd ; 

, Saw Reason s jewels, ^ — Truth's i^eaii-droiis hence 

"^ Take forms of life in thine own eloquence. 

She is not dead ! but lives in heaven and earth ; 
She knows the causes of thy grief and mirth, 

r And when dim night has shaded thy repose 

Her angel form conies near thine eyes to close ; 

^ And when calm sleep has closed thine outward 

mind 
She takes thy sx)irit with her own entwined 
And buoys thee upward to the gates of heaven ; 
Shows thee the joys which death to her has given ; 
Then with oblivion's coil thy mind engirths 
And takes thee back to dwell awhile on earth, 
If near thee ever thou couldst feel at will 
The softening influence of her presence still, — 
Vice vainly temj^ts thee with volui^tuous 2:)ower, 
Or pleasure's siren weave for thee a bower ; 
Vain are their wiles, if, deep within thy breast, 
Thy mother's image still shall be impressed ; 
The virtues which by jn-ayer to her were given 
Shall light thee here, and guide thee safe to Heaven. 



m 



MY LOADED OXES. 

Sweet guardian spirits, ever be 

AVitli those I love and liold most dear. 
And as my loved ones go from me 

Avert all danger, every fear. 
Imbue their minds with truth and love ; 

Send none l)ut i)leasure\s purest rays ; 
Attract their thoughts to worlds above. 

And fill their hearts with grateful praise. 

Oh ! make them feel thy presence, too, 

And know tliy care and love extends 
From heavenly spheres the wdde world throiigh, 

Where'er the fates their footsteps send. 
Ill calmness may they Jndge the power, 

AMiich guides them through this mortal life ; 
Guard well tlie bright immortal llower, 

AVhose 2^<^rfume soothes 'mid earns and strife. 



93 



OUR ESTELLKS BIRTHDAY. 

The golden sun beamed brightly, 
As he kissed the rosy morn, 

And my heart was filled with gladness. 
When my little Stelle was born. 

No roses in the spring time 

Had in early l)eauty blown, 

But our cherub came and blessed us, 
With a sweetness all her own. 

Her blue eyes were tilled with love-light, 

On her ruby lips a smile, 
And we thanked our heavenly Father 

For the gift of such a child. 

We caressed our little spring-liower, 
And watched her life unfold ; 

E'en the poet-angels blessed her. 
As the prophets used of old ; 

For they wreathed her brow with genius. 
And they touched her lix)s with fire, 

Till the sweet, wild tones of x>oesy 
Breathe from her dulcet lyre. 



94 



FORBEAR. 

If faults you see, so mildly chide, 

So soft your words of counsel tell, 

In friendship' s breast your trust to hide, 
Like diamonds dropping in a well. 

Its glassy surface mirrors all 

That' s on its bosom brightly thrown. 
And the pure brilliants, as they fall, 

Sink shining heart-drops of its own. 



MY BIRTHDAY. 

Welcome this day, which to the number gives 

One more to those of my departed years. 
Chained to the past, its only record lives 

To swell the number I am prisoned here. 
Prisoned, for who bound to a clog of earth 

Is free to mount on wings of hope and tij- 
Through the vast universe where worlds have birrli 

Or read the wondrous pages of the sky t 

Darkly we see its sx)angled cover here. 

Awed with the sight, we long to read its pag 
View its great Author in His heavenly sphere, 

And taste those joys immortal minds engage. 
95 



— 96 — 

Yet we this chrysalis, grovelling state must })ear,— 
Must feel tliis earthh', clogging weight of clny 

Till dissolution l)ursts the bonds we wear ; 

Then, spirit-freed, we'll soar to realms of day. 



THE DIFFERENCE. 

Blame from a friend is like a searing coal, 
Whose scorching fires burn deeply in the soul. 
'Tis to the spirit like a poisoned dart, 
Dipped in the morbid gangrene of the heart, — 
A demon spell it over friendshij:* sways, 
Corrodes our hopes, and darkens all our ways. 

Praise from a friend is like a bauble fair. 
Borne by the wayward current of the air. 
\Ve love the beauties of its golden cup, 
And gladly of its dewy nectar suj). 
It thrills our life-blood with delusive power, 
Then bursts, — the shining meteor of an hour. 

But counsel from a friend is life's bright star, 
AVhich shines, if near ns, and which guides afai-. 
Its beams will find us when, by sorrow's pall. 
The sad, lone heart, despairing, gives up all ; 
'Twill cheer us onward by its brilliant rays, 
And shed a halo round our darkest days. 



THE AGE. 
Tliis is an age of wonders 

(Though some are mad and some are rash,) 
An age Avlien ancient bhmders 

Are fast resolving into trasli. 
'Twas once tlioiiglit friends were absent, 

AVhen away 'mid distant scenes, 
But now they talk by lightning 

From New York to New Orleans, 

And once the use of steam was 

To machinery confined, 
But in this age of dreaming 

It leaves that far behind. 
Ill tills age the politicians, 

Tiilldng grave, and looking graver, 
Turn their eyes and their ambitions 

On the funds of ijublic favor. 

Tlie lawyer must, to win his suit. 

Use his intellect and reason ; 
He soon learns that by })eing cute 

Is what depend his fees on. 
Tile new school, Hyriieneopathy^ 

Is giving health and growing bright 
^^'ll]•]e the old one, looking wrathy, 

Plends old errors ;is its i-ight. 
i)7 



— 98 — 

The bif^ot hurls defiance 

At new theories of niind, 
And with a olub strikes Science 

In her eyes to make her blind. 
But Science, not depending 

On her eyes to see at all, 
Knows at this battle's ending 

The enemy must fall. 



"PERFECT LOVE CASTETH OUT FEAR.'^ 

Was it a fancy of thy youthful heart, 

Which thy fond impulse into life could start I 

Or was it really love with rosy brow, 

Which crept within thy heart, and rests there now 

If love, no jealousy thy mind could move ; 

Its steady fire will its existence prove. 

Pure love is faith, and cannot, will not doubt 

Its source, if in this mortal sphere or out. 



AI^ THE WRAA^E OF DOUGLAS. 

If the genius, the patriot, the statesman were 7/rre 
All hearts in deej) sorrow, in bitter desi)aii'. 



99 



^Vould sol) out their grief in the blackness of woe. 
That Freedom's great chamj^ion had fallen so low. 

No ! here lies the casket which once held the X)earl : 
So dazzling and brilliant it blazed o'er the world, 
And attracted by beauty, attracted by force 
Its millions on millions in its light upward course. 

True homage for freedom, true worship of soul 
Illumined his pathway as he neared the bright 

goal ; 
The nation' s great heart in its pulses beat strong, 
As the name Our Douglas attracted the throng. 

And the wildness of joy in loud shouts could ])p 

heard, 
As his bright jiresence cheered or his eloquence 

stirred 
The deep fountain of love for our country's great 

cause, 
To l)attle for Union, Constitution, and Laws. 

All party strife's buried, let no patriot heed them. 
But all raise their voices for Union and Freedom. 
Oh, Freemen ! now rally with concentrated miglit. 
For our cause shall be blessed by the God of the 
rioht. 



ON SEEING A SICK INFANT SLEEPING. 

Little Cherub ! sleeping, shrinking 

From earth's sorrows and its cares ; 
Fell disease, thy life-blood drinking. 

Soon shall free thee from life's snares 
Like the beauteous rosebud blighted 

By the early chilling frost, 
So thy loveliness, though i;)liglited 

To thy friends, to them is lost. 

All the joy thy coming gave them. 

All thy beauty's opening bloom 
All their love can never save thee 

From the lonely, darksome Umih. 
Parents, weep not when 'tis riven. 

From thy fondest earthly love ; 
His cherub spirit soon in heaven 

Shall chant the song that " God is love." 



LIFE'S PICTURES. 

I saw a mirror of capacious size, — 

How beauteous 'twas its imaged forms to view, 
Aerial colors floating on the skies 

Looked in and smiled to see eacn gorgeous huf 
100 



— 101 — 

All infant lovely as e'er a poet's dream, 

With eyes of wonder opened up so wide, 

Hastened with toddling steps to reach tlie scene 
That brought companionship to babj^' s side. 

A bright young girl in dreamy, mystic white, 
With sunny brow and careless, flowing hair, 

Passed languidly before its surface bright, 

Then paused to view herself reflected there. 

A youth whose willowy motions would remind 
Of slender saplings out to breast the storm, — 

A noble youth, — one moment stopped to find 
If he was gaining manhood's stalwart form. 

A matron' s stately form and easy grace. 

With flowing robes that followed in her wake. 

With thoughtful look consults the mirror's face 

And marked how swiftly Time his inroads 
make. 

An aged man, l)ending beneath the snow 

Of winters numbering full three score and ten, 

Looked, also followed back the How 

Of years whose brightness ne'er could come 
again. 

So on and off the various forms repeat. 

And keep the pictures moving o'er the glass ; 



•s-?^^;:^rc^^.-..^;. 



102 



Sunshine and shadows, with their Hying feet, 

Alarking life's moments as they swiftly pass. 

Oh 1 mirror thou art typical of life, 

Youth sees on thy bright surface only joy, 

But stern experience, cares, and bitter strife 
Reflect the dross which doth the gold alloy. 

But, ])right or dark reflections though we make, 

We soon shall fade. Oh ! leave the surface 
clear, 

And memories of good deeds and kindness take 
To shine back on us from the heavenly sphere. 



MORE CLEARLY I BEHOLD TllEM NOW 
THAN THOSE THAT NEVER DIET)." 

How thy form, my angel Mary, 

Ever near my spirit glides, 
In the laughing joys of springtime, 

In life' s fitful surging tides. 

When the rosy brow of morning ^; ,. 

Scintillates with burnished gold, 'j^'ii 

Thy bright face the scene adorning 

Comes with love and bliss of old. 



103 



Wlieii tlie noonday is redundant 
Witli 11 full set jewelled crown, 

Then tliy clear brow shines resplendent 
'Neath its wavy tresses brown. 

When the stars above us sparkle 

In heaven s brilliant dome of l)lue, 

Gazing down in transports holy, 
Are thy soul-lit eyes so true. 

Thus all through life's fitful changes, 
Struggling onward as I I'ove, 

Thou shalt from thy heaven of beauty 
Draw me upward with thy love. 



1859. 

This year has tied with all its joys and sorrows, 

Gone from the present, joined unto the past ; 
The hours Avhich made its dark or bright tomorrows 

Are fixed, unchanged, — forever now they last. 
Its record lives with other bygone years, 

A tale passed back unto creation s morn. 
Days bright Avith love, days dark with grief and 
tears, 

Davs mino'led witli life's sunshine and its storm. 



— 104 — 

This year now gone, forms one more step in ages, 

Which nnmber eighteen hnndrecl fifty nine ; 
No deep philosophy nor earth' s great sages 

Can change its name, renew its place, — its time. 
A step it stands, held fast in numbered cycles, 

A step that lifts ns farther on our way 
Toward the bright glowing of immortal beauties 

That wait our usliering to an endless day. 



UNRECOGNIZED GENIUS. 

The deep sympathy my spirit bears to thine 

Sees thee so lonely, thy aching head on thy frail 

hand recline. 
Feels that despair' s dull mist thy mind has ci'ossed. 
Thy hope' s bright gems in life' s dark ocean lost. 
Yes, 'tis my spirit hears and feels and knows 
Each gloomy thought that robs thee of repose, 
Sees thy heart's crater's black extinguished fire. 
(Which once burned brightly) all too soon expire. 

Awake thee. Son of genius, know 'tis not of earth ; 
Thv power's from God, — is gemmed with heaven's 

high birth. 
Arouse thee. Should tempests rage and lower 
Around thv head, and dreary storms down pour,— 



Firm on tlie rock of trutli tliy feet sliall stand, 
Tlie threatening waves will not submerge the land. 

Now lift thy soul from its dull, tearful gloom. 
One spirit's ever with thee in thy lonely room. 
Joy, crowned with hope, sliall twine thy clear, x)al« 

brow. 
Would I could make thee feel its j^resence now. 
Would I could lift from off tliy life its gloom. 
Immure thy sadness in oblivion's tomb. 
Would I could light with happiness thine eye, 
And see thy soul's bright sunshine in its azure sky. 



ON RECEIVING A GOLD PENCIL, PRE- 
SENTED BY MY CLASS. 

Receive my thanks for this, your friendly token. 
Language cannot my pleasure all unbind ; 

True poetry of feeling is not sj^oken. 

But lies too deep the surface soon to find. 

Your time has passed at truth's bright shrine ador- 
ing, 
Nor shall your worship) e'er prove false and 
vain, 
The useful x^earls of knowledge ye are storing- 
Shall shine on earth and live in heaven aaain. 



ion 



As time's swift car tlirougli future years is lilidin 
In retrosx)ection I sliall see you still, — 

Still feel the gratitude my sxiirit's chiding 
To flow in w^ords, but cannot flow at will. 

AVliether my voyage in life be rough or even, 
May you share every blessing earth can give 

Its various joys be found again in heaven, 

And God' s own impress on your beings live. 



SPIRIT POWER. 

Great j^ower of the universe, — Positive Mind, — 
Our Father and Mother forever combined ; 
Thy laws which are Love attract us to Thee, 
We feel Thy great presence, too brilliant to see. 
Encased in this form. Oh ! helx^ us to find 
Thy essence in nature, thy jjresence in mind ; 
Thy x)Ower thro' creation, in x^lanets and suns. 
In their bright orbits moving, their starry course 
runs. 

The xwwer of Thy wisdom in beauty unfurled 

In diamond light sx^arkling, each joy sx^angled 

world 
Shines on through Thy love and radiatt\s light 
To guide us and cheer us and keep ns aright. 
Tliv love-liorhted worlds on the soft azure skies 



-107 — 

Tpack us in triin worship wlie]i our own spirit's 

eves 
Look upward in love to the source of its birth. 
(Xo creed, priest, or layman is its herakl on eartli. ) 

Tlie deep, hi<lden worship of truth in the soul 
Glows with purest devotion in language untold, 
Such eloquent silence, with its unuttered prayer. 
Goes out to all nature, earth, ocean, and air. 
In the closet at night, when the bowed heart is 

open. 
Then the world is in i^rayer, tkougli mucli is 

unspoken ; 
Each soul reaches up, to its God would be nearer, — 
Would feel a new strength and a vision made 

cleai-er. 

Oh I we would progress and witli worship ascend 
Toward the great spirit fountain where world with- 
out end 
Grows brighter and brighter as more power is given, 
Till it shineth in beauty and blendeth in Heaven. 
Oh! lift up our tkougkts from tke gods of tkis 

world. 
And our own snlhsk idols (^i'rom pedestals liuiied) 
Bring joy to our liearts and liglit to our eyes, 
Tken our souls like sweet incense sliall unto Thee 
rise. 



^JK^ 



PASS OK 

Pass on, pass on, ye days and years 

Devoted to my brief, inglorious stay ; 

Pass on, dark world of grief and hitter tears, 

For when ye've passed my chains shall fall 
away. 

Pass on, j)ass on, and bring the moments nigh. 

When, mirrored in the heavens, my s})irit 
shines ; 

When what blind mortals dread and name "to die'' 
Sliall clothe me there immortal and divine. 



ADMISSION OF TEXAS TO THE FNIOX. 

Come, sister, welcome to thy home ; 

Thy father's lionse with joy doth greet thee, 
So long a "lone star" hath thou shone, 

All freedom's sons shall rise to meet thee. 

Rugged the path thy childhood trod. 
E'en thy best blood thy land to save, 

A I'ich libation j^oured, and God 
Into thy hand the tyrant gave. 

lOS 



— 109 — 

And wlieii with conquest tlioii wert crowned 
And songlit our great Republic's care, 

Then foreign intrigues circling ronnd 

Thought to beguile thee to their snare. 

But Liberty, the sacred shrine, 

Inspired with love thine old and young. 
Right manfully they kept the line. 

And of their State, their "Star,'' they sung. 

Tliy name unsullied, thy fair brow 

AYith thine own laurels now we twine ; 

Welcome, our sister ! welcome, thou ! 
Our loyal hearts respond to thine. 



"TUXE, SHAW." 

This Avorld is not a "fleeting show, 

For man' s delusion given. ' ' 
He that hath soothed a widow's woe, 
Or wiped an orphan' s tear, doth know 
There's something here of heaven. 

And lie who walks life's thorny way, 

AVitli feelings calm and even ; 
Whose path is lit from day to day 



-110 - 

By wisdom's briglit and steady ray 
Finds something here of heaven. 

He who the Christian course liath run, 

And all his foes forgiven, 
Has measured out his life's sliort span 
In love to God and love to man, 
On earth has tasted lieaven. 



THE PUREST LOYE. 

When 'round the silent, dusky earth 

Night throws her ebon pall, 
And sleeiD has hushed thy grief or ndrth, 

And lulled thy senses all ; — 

Softly an angel form draws near 

And clasps thee in her viewless arms. 

Presses thy lips,— still thou art dear, 

Though heaven hath robed her in its chai-m 

She knows the load thy spirit bears, 
And with an angel's pitying love 

Stoops from her heaven to soothe thy cares 
And bless thy soul with light above. 

Thy mother's spirit hovers near, 

Death cannot change her tender love, 



rji 



^o strong, .so deep, so ^xire, and clear, 

Though lent to ea.i'th, 'tis from above. 

Fear not as round thy life's frail bark 

Earth's rudest storms shall madly lower; 

Tliy angel mother's heavenly har]^ 

Shall safely guide thee to the shore. 



LIFE. 

Life, — a mystery that none can unravel ; 

A bubble so lirillijint we grasp at and marvel 

That all its gay scenery is ever receding ; 

A volume unread, yet forever we're reading ; 

A bargain commenced, yet still not completed ; 

A secret not kept, yet forever secreted ; 

A mine, though discovered, its treasures concealing 

A stream, although hidden, its waters revealing ; 

A ship, though in port, yet forever 'tis sailing^ 

A merchant unbroken, yet always a-failing ; 

A message received, but still not delivered ; 

A measure unl^roken, tho' each moment 'tis shiv- 

ered ; 
A portrait that's painted Avith Time's iron crayon ; 
Only finished when death his fast colors shall lay 



BEYOND THE TOMB. 

The love no worlds can sever is the love we each 

shall bear, 
As we i)ass o'er time's dark river reachins; for the 

perfect there ; 
For the selfish, the ideal, with the form is left be- 
hind. 
Our true selves now see tlie real with more perfect 

peace of mind. 
This world we see receding ; let us find one l^right 

and fair, 
Its beauties far exceeding, — all that we call rich 

and rare ; 
There we'll dwell in joyous raptures midst all its 

heavenly charms ; 
Will crowd round our dearly loved ones and clasp 

them in our arms. 

We shall see and feel their presence, they'll be 
ours, the loved and lost ; 

We shall suffer no more partings, never be ])y soi-- 
row crossed. 

Death never more can take them from our loving- 
arms again. 

Nevermore will fall the teardrops, never see our 
loved in |)ain. 

112 



5;^f/f?vr" 



— 113 — 

As we lay aside this earth form, emerging from the 

dust, 
How we must exult in gladness, bursting through 

the chrysalis crust, 
All to rise to life immortal, all to clasp forevermore 
The dear ones gone before us to that blissful, upper 

shore. 

Let us say to those we're leaving, "Weep not that 

we are free ; 
AVhat is your short bereaving to eternal joys I see ? 
Only a little longer will yon, insphered in dust, 
Remain on earth to labor ; he faithful to your trust, 
Subdue all selfish passions, see God in all enshrined. 
Work, worship, and develop your love for human 

kind. 



SUSPENSE — CERTAINTY. ,^v;4 

0i 
Suspense, thou terrible nerve-tearing curse, i^ 

Hoping the better, yet fearing the worst, 'b-?£ 

Following with anxious eyes, straining to catch 

The dear hoped-for image, — how untiring we watcli. 

Every sound seems a footfall, every creak on tlie 

stair, 



— 114 — 

And we start almost ])i*eatlilpss to meet one not 

there, 
Onr lioj^es, that arose witli a magical ])ower, 
Die out, — as the clouds of suspense on us lower. 

But nature so kindly, to ])alance her j^owers, 
Throws some rays of sunshine on her heaviest 

showers, 
Gives strength to our liearts 'neath its weightiest 

cares, 
Makes sure that some liglit in our darkness shall 

share. 
Take courage ; for hox)e from the lowliest tomb 
Will arise and shine o'er us with rose-tinted bloom. 
The bright tints may leave us, — may die or may 

fade, 
But hope's star will blaze in the midst of life's 

shade. 



INGRATITUDE. 

When from thy friends I saw thee far away, 
And illness marked thee for her languid prey, 
Who eased thy burning brow with anxious care, 
Thinking thus 'twould be were thy mother there ? 



115 



And when love's sliafts luid pierced tliy frantic 

heart, 
Thou saw'st hope's star from out thy soul depart, 
Thy reason tottering on her ruined throne ; 
Who then Avitli pity made thy griefs her own \ 

And with unselfish zeal to heal tliy woes 
Spoke words of comfort for thy mind's repose? 
Now through my care thou art restored to health ; 
I could not, if I would, give thee the wealth 

Of love thy longing heart desires ; 
Althbugli no pure, but unjust, envious fires 
Are kindled there, filling thy soul with blight, 
]\Iaking of f riendsliip' s day a hideous night. 

Thy disappointments on thy feelings grate ; 
I know thy weakness. Is that cause for .hate, 
AVliich, like a poisoned arrow on the wing, 
In treachery would, like slimy serpents, sting \ 




PHILOSOPHY OF PKAYER. 

As high the ciuiing smoke ascends 

To kiss tlie azure sky ; 
Tiie 2)rayerfnl sj^irit iix^ward tends 

To seek God's throne on higli, — 

Where, mingling with the blest above, 
All feelings are made pure, 

And when to earth descends their love, 
' Tis fixed, firm, and sure. 

But if the mind is chained here 
With selfish, jealous care ; 

Like a doomed culprit it will fear, 
Despond, regret, despair. 

Then let devotion lift the soul 

Up from earth's maddening care 

To heaven above, — the sjiirit's goal, 
And leave its treasures there. 



.(tj" 



116 



A SKET(JH. 

There's a cottage on tlie hill, 
Near the brooklet's laughing rill, 
Never quiet, never still. 

Twined above the rustic door, 
The eglantine droops o' er 
Its dainty coral buds, a store 

()t richness rare and Iniglit. 
While the blue lake just in sight ; 
A charm both day and night 

Were its cheerful moods of rest, 
And its white and foaming crest, 
As the winds their |)ower impressed. 

The orchard, forest, llowers. 

With their sweet, attractive j)owers. 

Made this little cot of ours 

A home so very sweet, 

That all nature seemed to greet 

Us, and the time it passed so fleet. 

A fairy came one morn 
Our hearthstone to adorn. 
And with such a lovely form. 
117 



— 1J8 — 

Her fair face and eyes of blue 
Made ns thank our God anew 
For liis blessings ever true. 

Time this child a matron brings; 
To her babies now she sings, 
All inspired with love she sings. 

And in faith she ever prays 
That the angels' blessed ways 
May direct and guide their days. 




TO AN ACTOR. 

Long years have passed by since tirst on your brow 

The laurels of fame I unconsciously set, 
With an eye all prophetic, the far distant noio, 

With its brilliant achievements, the glory 
you've met 
Unrolled on my vision gave me faith in the light 
That shone o'er your youth, and your genius of 
might. 

Now^ the world wreathes your brow, and loud ring 
the cheers. 
That greet the display of your histrionic art ; 
From the press and the people your glory appears. 
And you dwell in the love of the popular heart. 
Whatever your welfare, I shall feel every wave 
That streams o'er your life, your strong spirit to 
lave. 

I shall follow you onward and up to that goal, 

Your highest ambition has marked for a prize ; 

I shall watch every step, every flight of your soul. 
As you raise your Excelsior flag to the skies. 

I feel all your joys and your sorrows are mine. 

For friendship's true tie has a right all divine. 



119 



L^ AUGUST 81ST. j, 

^-■T-' This is the anniversary of my birth, -' 

Twice twenty years and two I've lived on earth. 
This life's promiscuous cares I've wandered tliro", 
Received my meed of praise and censure, too. 

Fame! Censure! What, but different kinds of 

breath, 
One binds with thorns, one with a laurel wreath ; 
Both may from grovelling ignorance arise. 
Or morbid envy, dressed in love's disguise. 

Some think life's comforts all to youth confined, 
E'en though wild fancies flash across the mind. 
And set too high a mark for pleasure's prize, r 

Which i^hantom-like flits before their wistful eyes, 
And leaves but disappointment, pain, and sighs. 

Thus youth's a beauteous, evanescent treasure, 
Balancing ever betwixt pain and pleasure ; 
Till grave experience' mild and thoughtful tone 
Teaches how both are nicely l)lent in one. 



120 



m^i 



LET ME GO. 

Let nie go from this dim world of darkness and 
sorrow, 

Where many hearts bleed over dear ones away ; 
Let me go where the sunlight of love cannot borroA\' 

Sncli dark lines of woe, Ijnt forever is gay. 

Let me go where the sweet smiles of lost ones are 
beaming, 
Resplendent with beanty on that upper shore ; 
Let me go where those fountains of joy ever stream- 
ing 
Shall rise into glory of bliss evermore. 

Let me go where no longer we grovel as mortals. 

And are to this dim speck of matter confined ; 
Let me burst this dark shell and arise to those por- 
tals, 
Where streams of pure love-light illumine eacli 
mind. 

Let me go where my spirit no more shall be pining ; 
Where no selfish, dark fear shall usurp the 
control ; 
But the pure light of truth l)athe my brow with its 
shining, 
And God's holy presence encircle my soul. 



121 



THE DEATH OF AX INFANT GRAND. 
CHILD. 

Little bud from beauty's Hower, 

So expected, thy sweet power 

Filled our thoughts more full of love 

And gratitude to God above. 

Thou wert sent to earth from Heaven, 

From that source whence all is given, 

Placed on this material plane. 

Scarcely here, snatched back again, 

To pass on from year to year. 

Ever towards a higher sphere. - - : - 

AVhy, ah, darling child ! didst thou 

Come for just a moment now '. 

Did the angels bring thee here, 

Just to test our love and care \ 

Did they wdiisper in thine ear, ,.>:^ 

" Take a glimpse of earth-life, dear ; \ "~^A 

Then we'll lly to worlds away, 

Live in the light of endless day, 

For of such as thou 'tis given ; 

To make up the perfect Heaven ' ' i , ^ 



122 



SONNET. 

I wish I were the orb of day. 

Which wakes the bhishing morn, 

I'd clasp thee witli my brightest rav 
And melt to light thy angel form. 

I wish I were the deep blue sea, 

rd bear thee fondly on my breast, 

My costliest pearls I'd give to thee 
To keep thee in my fond caress. 

I wish I were night's silvery queen, 
I then would greet thy sunlit eyes 

With love's soft, silent, soulful beams, 
From out the lucid, azure skies. 

I wish I were the breath of flowers, 
Pd mingle with thine very own. 

Till, lost in Eden's roseate bowers. 

Our beings both were joined in one. 






128 



fe 



FALSE FRIENDSHIP. 

Where'er thine ivy'tl friendshii3 tv/ines, 

World vain and false and frail and fair, 

Like the cleft bark 'neath creeping vines, 
It scathes the brow with sorrow there. 

No joy on earth but bends to grief 
And worships at a shrine of woe ; 

No smiles but what are rendered brief 
By crystal tear-drops as they How. 

No love but seeks in vain to lind 

Reflected in its idol's eyes, 
The image of itself enshrined, 

To bless alike with smiles and sight., 

Then when by keenest tortures rent, 
The bursting heart itself corrodes, 

Some new barbed arrow then is sent 

By one whose word the spirit goads. 

Oil ! Avhat is friendship worth that frowns 
On woes it cannot feel or know ; 

What, but to weigh the spirit down 

And mark the course for tears to flow i 



124 ^. 






"THE LORD IS IN HIS HOLY TEMPLE. 
" The Lord is in His holy temple," 

That temple in the skies, 
Where the diamond tread of sparkling worlds 

In their Hashing brilliants rise. 

AVhere the moon in smiling beauty 

Looks through her fleecy veil, 
And with her silvery shadows 

Tints mountain, hill, and dale ; 

How the earth in loving brightness 
Clasps this image to her breast ; 

And the ocean in its grandeur 

Wears her smile and jewelled crest. 

"The Lord is in His holy temple," 

And that tenij^le is the air, 
Filled witli forms of tiny millions. 
Pilled with floating music fair ; 

Pilled with life and golden sunshine, 

Giving out to each a share 
Of the glorious worlds created 

To S2:)read beauty everywhere. 



12: 



ETOLA. 

Reason, that soul-star o'er our x^athway lifted, 
To guide in j)eace and liarmony our love. 

Shines with a radiance on the nobly gifted, 

And lode-star-like attracts our thoughts above. 

May this bright star shine ever o'er the temple, 

Where all thy loves like sweetest roses bloom, — 

Shine down beneath thy feet, then wilt thou trample 
All selfish j^assions to oblivion's tomb. 

Thy life will then on earth begin its heaven, 

Thine eyes no more be dimmed by sorrow's 
tears ; 

Thy soul to jjeace, thy heart to love, be given. 

And hope's bright star shine ever radiant here. 



GUARDIAN ANGELS. 

Oh ! our angel friends above us, 

Come illume our darkened sphere, 

Let us know that still you love us, 
Let us feel your presence here. 
As through earthly scenes we wander 
Filled with selfish views and cares. 
Let us feel — above us — yonder, 
Ye are bent o'er us in prayer, 
126 



121 



If our morning's sky is darkened 
Shadowed o' er with deei^ despair, 

Let us know that ye have hearkened, 
And our troubles kindly share. 
As Aurora, smiling, blushing, 

Gilds the roseate morning sky, 

Let us see the light that's gushing 
From immortal dear ones nis-h. 



TO MY HUSBAND. 

Dost see our angel mothers near us, 
Beckoning us from earth away ? 
Oh ! how their loving smiles endear us, 
'•, Pointing to realms of endless day. 

Husband, from by-gone days thy casket 
.^^ :; Of memory brings its sacred pearls, 

::^" , They'll twine thy brow, if ye but ask it. 

With gems immortal in this world. 

--•-; For is not memory here immortal, 

^ v; The living, deathless soul of thoughts 

^3 The light that radiates thro' death's portal, 

'rl^ The crown from God by angels sought i 

Now all so pure, so bright, so chastened. 
Our mothers bring their guardian love. 



128 



Too soon, too soon from us tliey hastened 
To join tlie heavenly choir above. 

Oh I dou])t not that our angel mothers 
Can see our many griefs and cares, 

And know their cause, and, with the other, 
Each their turn in patience bears. 

Dearest, holiest, guardian spirits, 

Fill onr hearts with love and bliss ; 

Let us feel that we inherit 

Heaven, before our leaving this. 



Q,J>fe 




,>^i^S^ 




^ 



AURORA. 
Aurora's warm blushes 

Shine through the grey morn, 

And the zephyr's breath Inishes, 
As each rosebud is born, 
The dewdrop still nestling 
So sweet in its cui). 

So pearly and gemlike, 
Till the sun drinks it up. 
The sun is an archer, 

With millions of bows. 

And speeds his gold arrows, 
As onward he goes,— 
The Cupid of nature, 
His love-given darts 

Stick close in the worship 
Of millions of hearts. 

Hearts rose-like, hearts gem-like, 
Hearts beautifully true. 

Hearts from this gold fountain 
Their pure essence drew. 

That gives back prime sweetness 
To nature around, 

Retlects every image 

And reciprocates sound, 
129 



— 130 — 

Until tlirougli all nature 
In harmony play 

The Great Author's music, — 
Each lyric a lay, 

Each rosebud a harpstring, 
Each zephyr a sound. 

Which the musical forest 
Re-echoes around. 

And the hoarse voice of ocean. 
In its murmuring roar, 

Beats time with its surges, 
As they dash on the shore. 
' Tis the base in the concert, 
And its full, dreamy voice 
Tells that ever a presence 
Is singing rejoice. 



m 




^•.^s^^^ 



A PORTRAIT. 

Tills brings tliy presence near, 

As when Love nx)on us smiled ; 
I hear thy voice so clear, 

In tones so soft and mild. 

That intellectual brow 

Enclosed thy thoughts serene ; 

All ! how it speaks e' en now, — 
It tells of a joy that's been. 

The music of the past 

Is lingering near me yet. 

Where' er my lot be cast, 
I never ciin forget. 

Fate forged the iron ]>nrs. 

Which shut me from thy side ; 
I tell unto the stars, — 

Love from the world I hide. 

We ne'er again shall meet. 
And yet I feel that never 

Shall distance, worldly joys, or years. 
Our fond remembrance sever. 



131 



FASCINATED. 

Of all the crowd I saw but one 

Whose bright, bewitching glance 
Fastened my gaze on her alone 

And left my soul entranced. 

Her head was classic, and her hair 

A softly golden hue, 
Her form was symmetry so I'are, 

Her eyes a heavenly blue. 

Oh ! could she know how deep enshrined 

Her image in this heart. 
She would not, could not, ever find ^j'}^ 

The power to say : we X)ivi't. 



MABEL'S BIRTHDAY. 

This morning is as sparkling 

As one some years now gone, 
When an angel, from his cherubs, 

Brought our newest, sweetest one. 

And so our little Mabel 

Came with the birds and flowers. 
When summer wore its golden crown 

And lengthened out the hours, — 
132 



v^ 



;i-^ 



n 



133 — 

When tlie lightest, daintiest zephyrs 

Kissed her round and rosy face, -^^ ■ f 

And the bluest skies smiled down upon £-); 

Her budding, baby grace. - 

Her tiny rose-tipjoed fingers 

Reached out to catch the light, 
And her lovely blue eyes followed 

All, wondering at the sight. 4^^;; 

Time has sped with magic swiftness, .: 

Caring naught for hopes and fears, "v - 

It finds our bud a l^lossom '. "- 
' Neath the light of sixteen years. 

Many lofty thoughts inspire her i\^ 

To reach knowledge's shining goal, — 

High resolves and high ambitions 

Find her name on honor s roll, ,^0 

i& 
May the light that now is burning \"^' 

In her heart prove strong and true, 'z^; 

May her feet march on securely 
Seeking grace and wisdom, too. 

May this happy, joyous birthday 

Be repeated o'er and o'er. 
And the fiowers of love be twining 

Round her life forevermore. . ■- •: 



ELOQUENCE. 

That magic power coirmienced its reign in Eden, 

Luring our parents from their Paradise, 
Filling their senses with its potent bearing, 

Till naught else there could charm their wistful 
eyes. 
Hail, mighty Eloquence ! To thee 'tis given 

To govern with a despot' s iron will. 
To bind to earth, overturn the laws, of heaven. 

Then gild thy fetters witli a magic skill. 

By thee are kings and kingdoms made or riven. 

Whole states and empires set to rise and fall 
In senate halls, — e'en God's own temples given 

To thee, thou art so sure to govern all. 
Yet two-faced, thou : one shows thee pure and holy, 

Letting the oppressed of earth thy mercy share, 
Keaching thine arms to raise the poor and lowly, 

Guiding the weak with all a brother's care. 

Thine other face is dark and evil-minded, 

With eyes that watch to snare unwary feet, 
Thou stealest into hearts all unprotected, 

The young and innocent thou striv'st to meet. 
The good and evil thou ; these w^ondrous powers 

Are battling with, each other for the might ; 
Evil shall die, and good shall reign triumphant, 

For God is ever, ever with the right. 



vt-; 



134 p^K^ 



h^^i^mnQ 



EVA'S FOURTH BIRTHDAY. 

Oh ! sun with golden beams, 

111 amine all her day dreams ; 

Make the sweetest roses blow ; 

Make the laughing waters tlow ; 

Make the starry worlds arise 

In glittering grandeur o'er her skies. 

Make her see the silent power 

That opens every bud and flower ; 

And grace her brow with the lovely gem 

Of truth' s most precious diadem. 



A PETITION. 

Oh ! sweet angel friends above us, 

Come and light our darkened s^Dhere, 
Let us know that still you love us, 

Let us feel your jDresence here. 
As Aurora, smiling, blushing, 

Lights the roseate morning sky, 
Let us see the light that' s gushing 

From blest spirits ever nigh. 

If our noonday sky is darkened 
By the clouds of sorrow here, 
135 



m 



Si^iili^* 8r~-:^-^s^3^5ij ■r^-:;-^v:=-ii=->?i^"-vi 



13(3 



' V ■ ■ I^et us know that you have harkened 

r - To our sobs of deej) despair. 

: ' As on earth so dark we wander, 

Filled with selfish views and cares, 
Let us feel above us, yonder, 

You are listenint^ to our prayers. 



u--.r 



i 



UNFORGOTTEN. 

Memory with her tablets gold 

And familiar smiles of old. 

Bears thy image ever on, 

Though tlie years have come and gone. 

In my souF s deep starry light 
Glows our cherished love so bright. 
Friends may fail and fortunes fall ; 
It shall shine above them all. 



-: IMonth to month aiid year to year. 

Thy remembrance ever dear 
Keeps anew within my breast 
C\ii4 Hapi^y hours when we were blest. 

p-H 

jiov' Wide our paths in life diverge, 

'^ ■ ' Where Ave shall at last emerge 



lo' 



Is not given ns to know, 

As the years cloth onward flow. 

Still we never shall forget 
Until life's bright sun is set, 
Then our mutual love shall rise 
Brighter still in heavenly skies. 



"LOYE NOT." 

Bid me not love ! Go tell the sun 
To stop the golden hours, 

]N"or mark the sands of life that run, 
N^or kiss the dew from flowers. 

Bid me not love ! Go tell the stars 

To hide their holy light. 
Leave eartli in gloom, and man in wars, 

Wrax)ped in absorbing night. 

Bid me not love ! Go tell the moon 

Her silvery course is run. 
That breathless I^ature in a swoon 

Lies gasping — life is done. 

Bid me not love, — my soul is hid 
In sorrow' s darkest pall. 



« -138 



a- 



4:^^ Hope shuts on eartli a coffin lid, 






-^^f: 



And darkness covers all. 



"i^ Oil ! bid me love, — for God is love, 



{^ And worlds His love lias wrought, 

-'^ Filled them Avith liffht from heaven above, 



And peopled life with thought. 



;S|,1 Oh ! bid me love, — 'tis life's best boon, 



To light our path beyond the tomb, 
And raise our thoughts to heaven. 



ST. HELENA. 

St. Helena! thou outcast from all the green eartli. 

With thy rocks piled amidst the lone wave, 
'i'hy laurels are wreathed, and the i)lace of thy birth 

Ne'er shall be hid in oblivion's grave. 
Thou hast pillowed that head, once radiant with 
power, 

That form by the world held in awe. 
Those eyes 'neatli whose glances earth's princes did 
cower. 

And whose mandate •'•ave nations a law. 



'^v.;.,".^^., #»»i<t-r:5»(, •^>irr'/ ' uT) /•r-c=VT",-.,-™.'<i r-^ 




— 139 — 

Tlis ftiory so brilliant like Sol's briiihtest rays 

Illumines all objects around, 
And thy sere barren rocks are made bright with its 
blaze, 
As when icebergs in sunlight are found. 
Sere Island ! Ah ! never shall England or thee 
• Look on one who may vie with his might. 
Ah ! never again shall such a star be 

Quenched by cowardly, withering blight. 



SPRING — SUMMER. 

When Spring with her sweet buds all golden and 

green 
Had spread her bright carpet with roses between. 
And the round sun had lifted his mantle of gold 
To clasp our dear earth, and those buds all unfold. 

The music of nature our spirits entranced, 

As the brooks, the gay song birds, and zephyrs all 

danced. 
The deep silent forest was swayed by all these 
To spread out the sheltering arms of her trees. 

Each day tarried longer, each night grew more fair, 
l[er jeweled crown set with world-diamonds so rare 



^m^^ 



,'--?^ 



m 



140 



Wooed tlie sod to be ,ii:;i'eener, wliile l)uds, fruit, and 

flowers 
Declare it is Summer, with all its glad hours, — 
'Tis the season that crowns all the others with love, 
With golden fruit harvest and mnrmnrs of doves. 

How we seek the deep forest in worship and awe, 
Mark the tree-tops reach heavenward and obey the 

great law 
Which governs the circuits of millions of worlds. 
And each planet decks with electrical pearls, — 

Holds in jjlace onr fair day -god, too brilliant for 

gems, 
W hich he scatters in rays over mountains and glens, 
And his love-light he flings over meadows and trees, 
And sets the wild song-birds' soft trill to the breeze. 

Down deep in this glol)e his rays turn to gold 
And diamonds nncrystallized, until they are cold, 
Many gems in earth' s bosom in darkness concealed 
Soon will burst on the world with their beauties 
revealed. 



THE INNER TEMPLE. 

There is a power of joy and love 

AVliicli hangs from heaven suspended, 
But when with hate we cut the string 

Our happiness is ended. 
There is within the darkest mind 

An inner temple shrouded, 
Which, could love' s truth an entrance find, 

'Twere light where now 'tis clouded. 

Oh ! search for truth, it shall reveal 

This temple else benighted ; 
Seek wisdom, such a joy you'll feel 

To see its spires all lighted. 
For then 'twill shine on all below. 

Its luster all o'erspreading 
The darkened paths of human woe. 

So many feet are treading. 



THE HILL TOP OF LIFE. 

My reasoning life is just begun, 

The once so dark is now all clear ; 

Some places hidden from the sun 

Now shine in undimmed atmosphere. 
141 



li^m^ 



142 



I've travelled fur upon life's road. 
So many milestones left behind, 

O'er liill and dale I've drag-ged my load, 
And lip its rugged cliffs I've climbed. 

It is not strange that I can see 

Into the valleys I've passed through, 
And that the light is given me 

To reach the heavens' cerulean blue. 



'<'>',-7( 



For when we stand upon life's height, pS^ 

With all its winding paths below, 
The inner eye Avill pierce the night, 

And find where heavenly blessings liow„ 

That inner vision will unroll .4-; 

The beauties of celestial skies, ;.' 

Will mark the progress of the soul, ^: "j 

Winging its way to Paradise, — A :' 

AVill feel the hands of loved and lost, 

Who reach to clasp them in my own, 

Will know life' s barque once tempest-tossed 
Will reach the haven of its home. 

'Tis reasoning wipes the mists away ;-; 

And clears the glass for me to see, 
Shows me the dawn of perfect day. 

The sunrise of Eternity. 



x..:f-^si.^^<^'^^'-'j-^(ii£::^\:i^- ■ 



FAREWELL. 

Another year has set his signet on thee, 

And thy fond hopes and fears are all his own. 

They mark the record of the things that be, — 

Of eyes which wept, or smiled with joy that's 
Hown. 

So shall thy life pass on, and coming years 

Be numbered with the five and twenty past ; 

And love and sorrow, happiness and tears 
Shall fill life's pages, even to the last. 

Could I but write them, they should be replete 

With friendship, honors, — every worldly bliss ; 

Fond hearts Avitli pleasure should thy coming greet, 
And thou shouldst feel Dame Fortune's magic 
kiss. 

But I, alas ! can bring thee but my will, 

My wish, my prayers, that thou be ever blessed ; 

Thy cup of joy unto the brim Pd fill ; 

Thy brow I'd crown with fame's most biilliant 
crest. 

'Now change declares an unknown path for me. 

Which tread I must, though where, or how, or 
when 
Is left for fate to issue his decree. 

And me to read the fiat of his pen. 
143 



m^. 



';:"-^^ 



>r-i^ 



144 



If written with the sable touch of woe, 

It never mere ehall seek to cross thy way, 

Shall follow never where thy steps shall go, 
Or mingle in thy pleasures with the gay. 

Farewell ! Ah ! since farewell must now be spoken, 
It lingers o' er me like a magic sj^ell, 

Which will not break, ah! now it breaks, — is 
broken, — 
Farewell ! Alas ! forever fare thee well. 



TO COLONEL ROBERT KLOTZ.* 

When to meet thy country's call 
Thou gavest uj:) friends and pleasures all 
And hied thee o'er the bounding wave 
To find but glory or the grave, — 

Thy heart with patriotic beat 
Determined not to brook defeat, 
Thy bosom swelled with warrior pride, 
And as thy comrades at thy side 

Fell one by one till all were gone, 

' Twas then thy trying hour had come 

Thy spirit rose in that dread hour 

All nerved with more than earthly power, 

*Ouly survivor at the Natiouiil Bridge in lyicxico. 



m 

- -145 — 

And dealt with surer aim the blows 
-5r j; AVhich struck to earth thy deadliest foes, 

"--^4 Till darkness, as if thee to shield, 

Spread her black curtain o' er the field, 

V ' Hiding alike the quick and dead, 

r; ; ^ O'er all her sombre i^all was spread. 

J ^ Through all the battle's deadly strife, 

; ! What angel form did shield thy life ? 

i And stayed Death's arrow aimed at thee 

And bade the avenging angel flee 'I 

.. - Unharmed thou wert by Heaven's high will 

And spared to serve thy country still. 



m 



Cheered by youth and w^elcomed by age, 
Thy deeds of valor grace history's page ; 
The laurels wreathed round thy manly brow 
Shall be honored in future years as now. 



'^4^^ 



^.iX&im^ ,2JfeaiWiSKBiisas>^^«».>?afc^v 



ANSWER TO A VALENTINE. 

Your heart I' m sorry here to find 

In such a common place, 

With ink and paj^er so enshrined 

('Tis really a serious case), 

And she who shall your hand receive, 

When here your heart she'll see, 

Will weep, so sadly will she grieve 

To know 'twas sent to me. 



MID OCEAN. 

Far as the eye can reach, 'neath heaven's own blue. 

Naught but the sea, the sky, and our stanch 
steamer 
Between two worlds, — the old and our own loved 
new; 

I watch the sunset's last departing shimmer. 
How gorgeously he laid his colors on 

And o'er it all threw rays of streaming gold, 
Clouded with pink and blue the horizon 

Stretched fa^ away, — his treasures to unfold. 

At last Sol goes,— he sinks beneath the waves, — 
The pink, the blue, and all the gilded light 
146 



147 



Has followed him to sleep in watery graves, 
And angels draw the curtain folds of night. 

Then Luna with her pale and gentle face 

Smiles down upon our moving, restless sea ; 

She calls the stars to their accustomed place, 

And crowns herself in heaven' s own brilliancy. 

Old ocean, gazing on so fine a crest, 

Smoothes out the wrinkles from his bosom 
wide ; 
Then mirrors those bright worlds ui)on his breast 

And wears those sparkling gems with conscious 
pride. 
With gentle breath he softly kissed our brows ; 

How tenderly he bore us in his might, 
Lulled all our senses to repose in sleep, 

And carried ns to dream-land for the nig-ht. 



HOPE'S STAR. 

Oh ! shall we despond while, with vision still free, 
We can gaze on the sky, the earth, and the sea ; 
While the sun can awaken a burst of delight. 
And the stars are a joy and a glory at night ; 
While the harmony throughout all nature can raise 
In our spirits the impulse of gladness and praise. 



— 148 — 

Oh ! let us no longer then vainly lament 

Over scenes which have faded, and days which are 

spent. 
But by faith unforsaken, unawed by mischance, 
On Hope' s waving banner still fixed be our glance. 
Should fortune prove cruel and false to the last. 
Let us look to the future and not to the past. 



AN ANNIVERSARY. 

Why does time's unerring finger 

Point to this from other days, % 

Why do tender feelings linger, *' 

From its dawn to evening' s rays ? 

Why does memory' s golden circle. 

Linking back with other years, 
Clasp thee longer, hold thee stronger, 

Till thine eyes are filled with tears ? ^ 

" Tis that dear ones come around thee, 

With their tender smiles of yore. 
With the love at first which found thee 

Helpless,— needing all its store. 

Then, as years on years passed o'er thee, 
Others came to claim thy love ; 



149 



One by one they've gone before thee 
To the spirit world above. 

Their brief lives made earth much brighter, 
Their deep faith is drawing thee 

Towards that goal where all is lighter, 
Into life's eternity, 



THE DYING YEAR. 

The old year is dying ^ Ttls pidse is so sloto, 
His lifeless form is drawing near to tliose of long 
ago. 

He is a sage, has seen red war 

Succumb to calm wdiite peace ; 
The raging passions thrown aside, 

The clang of battle cease. 
The seeds of future government 

Are in his i^allid hand, 
Which soon shall germinate to life 

And bless our native land. 

All Hail ! Our government of truth \ 
Which shall the poor enfold ; 

With libert}^ for age and youth, — 
All names are there enrolled. 



— 150 — 

Illustrious banner, to the braeze 
Be thy blest folds unfurled, 

And sj)read abroad from freedom's sun 
The lio'ht to bless the world. 



SNOW. 

How ]3urely white the snow, 
As its feathery crystals go 
In the atmosphere around, 
Floating gentl}^ to the ground. 
How the snowllakes X3art and meet, 
Noiseless falls their feathery feet, 
As they leave their home on liigh. 
Far beyond the wintry sky. 
How it rests on house and hill. 
All so silent, white, and still. 
All so glittering, it appears 
Fallen from the starry spheres, 
With its soft and tuneful sighs, 
As it wavers from the skies. 
Do you think the snowliake hears 'i 
Tells God' s X)ower to mortal ears i 
Does it whisper of His love 
In their cloudland home above i 



— -151 — 

Gentle, celestial snow, covering the earth like a 

shroud, 
Falling on high and low, — floating from yon white 

cloud, 

Softly ye rest on the ground, on fence and house- 
top and tree. 
Mantling all around with thy robe of purity. 

On the graves of the rich and x^oor fallest thou, — 

all alike ; 
Hearts that from sorrow died sore, rest 'neath thy 

covering white. 

Children of grief and care, — lives all unblessed by 

love, — 
Tlieir tombs receive a share of God's favors from 

above. 

The lowly dirt-heaped mounds, unmarked by stone 

or flower, 
In pureness now abound, — a proof of wisdom's 

power. 

So in the world above God's goodness will shield 

all; 
He guides and rules by love. He raises those who 

fall. 



ON VISITING A MAGNIFICENT PARK. 

Garden of mystery, wonder, and jDower, 

Nature must love tliee to give such a dower ; 

Art, too, has crowned thee with grace and with 

skill, 
While music's voice lives in the rivulet's trill. 

Thy mountains of emerald are by soft zephyrs 

fanned ; 
Thy grand old trees whisper in accents so bland ; 
Thy rich-throated warblers inspired by thy grace. 
Sing their sweet thrilling notes in glad music and 

praise. 

Thy pathways meandering o'er hill, dale, and 

glade, — 
Shutting out the sun's heat by the coolest of shade. 
Thy surprising ravines, hidden grottoes, and rills 
Where diamond-bright waters leap forth from the 

hills. 

All, all these enchant me and lift me above, 
Show how great is man's power through God's glo- 
rious love. 
How I feel insx3iration encircle my brow , 
My spirit' s fine harpstrings are tuned soft and low, 

While Nature is crowned, by Nature's own hand. 
With all that is beautiful, majestic, and grand. 
152 



— 153 — 

All ! the fame of tliat grandenr spreads far o'er the 

world 
On banners borne high, to the breezes unfurled. 



CHILDHOOD'S EDEN. 

When first our young existence feels 
Heaven' s balmy breath around ; 

Joy lights the eye and truth reveals 
But nature' s tuneful sound. 

The thrilling chords strike ecstasy 

To each infantile thought, 
Earth seems to us a Paradise, 

With heaven' s own gilding fraught, 

Happy could sin ne'er blight the mind, 

Or sorrow scathe the soul : 
Happy could earth' s dread knowledge lund 

To naught but heaven's control. 



ri 



MY CHILDREN. 

Oh, inspiration ! Come below, 

From thy bright mountain height, 
And round my Genius flowers strew, 

And bring my muse a light 
And let her soar from star to star, 

To search 'mid worlds unknown, 
And gather gems of thought before 

She gains earth' s horizon. 

Oh ! let her not come back to me, 

Until, with cheerful hands, 
She's gathered from the brilliancy 

Of stars and summer lands. 
Let her not come until from bowers 

Of beauty, truth, and love 
She's plucked the brightest, sweetest flowers 

My soul inspired could move. 

For I would form a wreath of gems, 

A tribute high would bring 
To this my clustered diadem, — 

My childrens love, — I sing. 
And it will take the treasures rare, 

Of words and deepest thought 
To join the music of my song 

To all the joys it brought, — 
154 



— 155 — 

To tell liow through a life 'most gone 

These clustered jewels shone, 
Brightening with every loving care 

The years that' s swiftly flown. 
My steps, though feeble, soon will gain 

The hai3py border- land ; 
But, oh ! my love can never wane 

For this dear loving band. 



IN A DIARY. 

The records here given may be but repeating 

Those written in journals before ; 
The incidents vary, yet time is as fleeting 

And garners the years in his store. 
Every step we are taking wo surely are making 

A record this life will outlast. 
As we go through time's portals and merge to 
immortals, 

We shall smile as we think of the past. 
For when I go where my dust last reposes 
'Twill all be smiling with the sweetest of roses. 





TO A FRIEND. 

Only a link from out thy golden chain, 

A tiny link so beautiful and bright ; 
Only a note lost from the souFs refrain ; 

Only a star thaf s dimmed its heavenly light ; 
Only a fountain letting its ripx^le cease ; 

A brooklet drying on its gravelly ])ed ; 
A bird whose notes have sweetly M^arbled x>eace, — 

All droop beneath the darkness overhead. 

Only a flower from out thy heart' s bouquet ; 

A leaf that's plucked, torn from thy brightest 
rose ; 
Only a spot, which shows how deej) decay 

Has marked thy love, destroying thy re^Dose. 
AVhat, then ! all llowers must fade ; oil, heart ! 

Must cast their loving fragrance on the air ; 
And ''dust to dust" for them, too, is a part 

Wise Nature has decreed that they shall share. 

And birds must die, and fountains cease their flow, 

And rivulets their murmuring ripples still ; 
All finite things a change must undergo ; 

And naught is deathless save the human will. 
Oh, human heart ! thy deepest, holiest power, 

Thy noblest thoughts and feelings spring from 
love, — 

io(; 



167 



A loA'e that outlives all, e'en death's dark hour, 
And shines forever on in heaven alcove. 

Such love was thine ; thon' st fondly tlionght 

Thy sonl had found its own trne, loving mate. 
Alas ! susi^icion for thy treasure sought 

And marked its brightness for a cruel fate ; 
Seeing thy roses fade, thy warblings fail. 

Thy chains nnlinked, all thy lieart music cease 
Reads but another oft-time, oft-told tale 

Of love destroyed, unrest dethroning i^eace. 



"Love free as air, immortal, unconlined," — 
Heaven cannot chain, or earth with fetters bind ; 
How then shall mortals here direct thy sway 
Or bind thy viewless wings to forms of clay 1 
Shall tiny man presume by human laws 
To chain the effect without the parent cause ? 
Bind, if thou wilt ; but recollect thy force 
Destroys the life and leaves a ruined corse, 
And when tliou seekest that, too rudely grasped, 
Will find it from thy selfish power has passed. 



TO MY BASHFUL FRIEND. 

Why with diffidence is thy soul oppressed ? 

And why suffused thy cheek with blushes of carna- 
tion 'i 

Unbidden by thy will come they then ? 

Or is the fountain of thy soul so stirred thou 
couldst 

Not stifle them ? List, then, these are the 

Silent sxDeeches of thy mind, distrustful of itself, 

Distrustful of its powers. 

While it doth magnify those powers in others. 

It knows not they are all its own, and l)y the 

Sunbeam touch of cultivation would spring forth 
with 

Lustre far too brilliant for thee e'er again to doubt. 

With self-abasing eyes still dost thou look on those 

Rare pets of Fortune, chained to luxury' s car by 

Shackles formed of massive gold, the glare and 
splendor 

Of whose equipage thy sj)irit shrinks from. 

Can all this yellow dust e'er add one cubic inch to 

Intellectual worth i 

Can the free spirit e'er be chained with gold ^ 

Or its flres extinguished by the blight adversity can 
bring i 

No ; 'tis a sjjark of Heaven's own kindling. 

Lit up by Him whose being is Omnipotence. 
15S 



159 



Nor pomp, nor pride, nor worldly grandeur 

E'er ennobled its ethereal powers, but, like that 

great 
Eternal power from whence it came. 
Claims all supreme for its own contemjilation. 
Knowest thou not "The rich man is at best 
A pauper fed on Heaven's own bounty"^ Or why 

dreadst thou the 
Intellectual brow wreathed round with laurels ? 
Or thick studded with rich diamonds whose very 

lustre is 
The glow of toil and labor to those who wear them ? 
Knowest thou not he found the diamond 
Only rough at first, ill-shapen, and the grace and 
Brilliancy thou see'st comes from the plane and 
Pruning knife of cultivation t 
Dost thou still thyself distrust i 
Look over life, as on the ocean surge of time 'tis 

moving. 
View it merge in bubbles fair, which one by one 
Arise, float on the wave with l)rilliant face to 
Heaven upturned. 

Catching the genial warmth of those sure 
Fires of intellectual beauty, which thus expand it 
More and more, and, when most beautiful and still 

exx)anding, 
The bubble bursts, and nnnd which thus to us 

ai)peared so 



lOO 



Beautiful wliile in its fragile casement 

Is etherealized. 

Tile wreck, alas ! no longer tit for our sad gaze, 

Is laid in earth's cold bosom. 

For who would witness the fell ravages 

The death-worm' s revel makes ? 

Or the horrors of decomjiosition, when every ele- 
ment 

Claims its own x)ortion of the 

Sour s frail tenement ''. 

Thus now thou see'st in life's true portrait 

The microscopic speck of man' s existence ; 

See how it takes its rise from nothing, and see how 

Poor and frail its materials. 

And that, however various are the fortunes which 

Here attend us, 

Yet all alike we took our rise from nothing, 

And all alike resolve into those elements 

Held here in bondage by this brief period of 

Probation. 

Why shouldst thou feel abased before mortals 

Like thyself? Spread out life's chart before thee ; 

Contemj^late it well, 

And thou shalt feel the nothingness 

Of human inide and human cultivation. 






•TIS ONLY SMALL ACTS. 

The little tliing-s mark most our x)atli in life ; 

The flowers here and there, the warbling birds. 
The sun s bright rays, when we are in the strife 

Of the busy world and by its tem^^est stirred ; 
These leave their imx)ress on the heart, and form 

A green isle there which time ne'er wipes away. 
Their lights flash through the darkness and thv 
storm, 

Showing us glimpses of the coming day. 

"Tis seeming trifles that make up our world of love ; 
How one sweet word well-timed and rightly 
spoken 
Oft lives in memory till we" re called above, — 

A magic power, whose spell can ne'er be 
broken. 
"Tis little acts that show the heart's devotion ; 

That thoughtfulness which spares the loved one 
pain ; 
That care we use (when any deep emotion 

Saddens the heart) to bring back smiles again. 

Then let us give kind words and loving glances. 
And try to leave behind our paths a light 

That's brightened many a footsore, weary wanderer, 
And brought some rays into their sombre night. 
1(51 



162 



Oil ! let lis feel we all are (xod's own children, — 
He made us all, — to Ilim no liigli, no low. 

Oh ! let our love, like unto His, grow wider, 

And through earth's channels ever sweetly 
iiow. 



FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Though many brighter flowers there be 
Than this sweet emblem sought, 

They never '11 have that charm for me 
Like my forget-me-not. 

So beauty, youth, and grace may shine 
Where friendship holds no sway. 

And all their brilliant charms combine, 
Yet not the less repay ; 

Talent extend her sceptre, too ; 

Wit bring her sparkling gems ; 
Yet, if these only I should woo. 
How sombre were life's lens. 

But if to these a heart most true 
It's fondest worship brings, 

And love' s best offerings ever strew 
My path with happy things, — 



- 1G8-- 

I can love, also, aiil our vows 

Will gild litVs liumble lot, — 

My queen she'll be, — upon lier brow 
ril twine forget-me-not. 



MY NEPHEW'S TOY WATER AVHEEL 

Yes, I saw thee, smiling genius, 

Just beneath the branching tree. 
With a look of interest, saying, 

' ' How can this wheel turn for me 1 ' ' 
Soon the sparkling waters rij)ple. 

Passing o' er the pebbly ground ; 
So in joyousness he' s laughing. 

For his wheel turns round and round. 

Oh ! how curious 'tis to see it, — 

Such a motion, such a sound. 
Would I from its base could free it. 

And still the wheel go round and round. 
This absorbed his childish fancy, — 

Could not with his school-mates play, — 
The wheel within his brain seemed turning. 

And would attract his eyes that way. 

Oft alone in silence sitting, 

Plannino- what the wheel shall do, 



164 



Witli his penknife alwaj/^ whittling, 
Still contriving something new. 

Watch the future, the unfolding 
Of his genius to the world, 

As we see the steam horse snorting, 

Belching lire with smoke that curled, - 

Iron bone and iron muscle, 

Iron nerve and heart and brain, 
As his fiery nostrils snuffle, 

Or as flows his steaming mane. 
While his v/ondrous force like lightning 

Flashes round the rim of earth. 
Freighted with all kinds of burdens, — 

Hearts of sorrow, joy, or mirth. 

This to genius is a treasure, 

Though for him the toil of years ; 
Yet success, his crowning measure. 

Comes amid the loudest cheers. 
In the distant future see him 

Some new force in nature find, 
Floating in aerial splendors, 

Use and elegance combined. 

So his spirit, struggling onward, 

Mounting high the clifl's of time. 

Overcomes all doubts and dangers. 
Lends his light to everv clime. 



YERSES FOR THE CHILDREIS'. 

THE FROG. 

In the brook on a loo- 

' o 

There was a little frog. 
His back was so green, 
And glowed with such sheen, 
That you never could guess 
What made up his dress ; 
In some deep hidden mine 
He found emeralds fine 

And decked himself out 

Till he looked round and stout. 

The texture of his clothes 

And the shade from head to toes 

Were as green as the trees 

In the soft summer breeze. 

This frog from tlie brook 

Started up with such a look 

Of the greatest surprise 
As he gazed in my eyes. 
I was almost afraid 
To ask him who made 
That beautiful gown 
For fear he would frown ; 
But I said, Mr. Frog, 
Who dwells in a bog, 
165 



— lOo-- 

AVlio jumps ei^er so liigli 
To catch a big fly, 
Who talks to the birds 
In your own funny words, 
Who sings a queer song 
The whole summer long, 
Who sits by the brook 
With such an odd look, 

And watches to see 

Big folks j list like me ; 

I make you my bow, 

So please tell me how 

You found such a bright dress 

And a fine emerald crest. 

Then he squinted his eye 

And acted so shy, 

Then looked at himself 
(The proud little elf), 
And said, with a smile, 
In his own froggy style, 
The gems you admire 
Came direct from my sire ; 
Our family is old, 
Filled with warriors l)old. 

Great hunters are we ; 
From bushes and tree 



— 167 — 

We catch every bug 
And give them a hug 
Wliich ends them for life 
Of all worry and strife. 
But you ought to know 
All that's lovely below, 

In jewels and gems, 
In flowers and stems, 
In brooklets and trees, 
In wild birds and bees, 
Below or above 
Are all sent us in love. 
Then he said, with a nod, 
Emn 7 came from God. 



THE KOSEJ]USir. 

When I was a little girl, 

There stood close by the door 
The sweetest little rosebush 

On a green and grassy floor. 
There came a little humming bird, 

With bright and gauzy wing, 
And took his breakfast from my rose 

And never moved a tJiing. 



- 1 68 — 

THE bird's JNTEST, 

The little blue jay flew up in a tree, 

All in a flutter. Don't you see 

Four baby birds sticking up their heads 'i 

What is the matter ? They want to be fed. 

They slept all night in their little nest, 
And one was ' ' littler ' ' than the rest. 
And in the morning they opened their eyes 
And looked around in great surprise. 

One little bird slie was so sweet. 
She said : "We all want something to eat." 
Their Mamma flew down upon the ground 
And looked and searched the grass around. 

At length she es^^ied a very big bug, 
Almost as big as she could tug ; 
Then away she flew to the nest once more, 
And divided it around amongst the four. 

They ate and grew from day to day. 
And when they got big enough flew away, 
Away among the shady trees 
And raised little birds almost like these. 



RIDDLES. 

I oijen my mouth and my tlioughts you can see 
Witliout ever speaking tlie least word to me. 
Book. 

I trace your tliouglits from a far distant land 
And tell you tlie Avortli of tlie note in your liand. 
Ink. 



VALENTINES. 

WRITTEN FOR MY YOUNG FRIENDS. 

Love' s bright coronet of roses 

Rests in beaut}^ on thy brow 
And the sweetness it discloses, 
Thrills my spirit even now. 

When I'm in thine angel 2:)resence 

My full heart with bliss runs o'er. 

Like a magic crystal fountain 

That was never moved before. 

Can such joy be mine forever \ 

Can thy love its tendrils tv/ine 

Round my glad heart, failing never ? 
Then I am thy Valentine. 
169 



— 170 — 

If all the brightness of the sun 

And all the sweetness of the flowers 

AVere sugared, melted into one, 

It would not make one love like ours. 

Our souls commingling, intertwine 

With holiest rapture and with dearest love 

This life begins the joyous Yalentine 

Which lasts forever in the spheres above. 



Thou sun of my morning, - 
Thou star of my night,— 
Thou crown of my jewels. 
So brilliant and bright, — 

Thou rose of my garden 
Exhaling such sweetness, 
Absorbing thy love. 
Is joy's own completeness. 



Our love is like a flowing river, 
So deep, so clear, advancing ever, 
Altho' we try its power to sever. 
It still moves on thro' time forever. 



171 



Were all earlli's shining brilliants 

Fixed in one diamond sun, 
And all tlie light of all the stars 

Commingled into one ; 
Thy sonl-lit eyes on me wonld shine, 

More brilliant than them all, 
And thy loved tones my heart wonld twine 

With most delicious thrall. 

"When morning smiles I ope mine eyes 

And think of smiles from thee ; 
When sweetest zephyrs kiss my brow 

I send them back to thee. 
Laden with my deepest love, 

Where all bright wishes twine 
Into a wreath for thy fair l^row, 

My charming Valentine. 



Secure within the magic temple 
Of my inmost heart of hearts, 

Thou art shrined, and thus my worship 
Is from all the world apart. 

There, in deep devotion kneeling. 

All the thoughts tliat lill my mind 
Blend in one their purest f eelino- • 

Shall they find response in thine? 



— 172 — 

Love in thee his crowning glory 
Has set beautiful and bright, 

Thick with gems of rose-tint lustre, 
Filling all my life with light. 

Deep thy soul-lit eyes are shining, 
With a radiance all thine own, 

Every grace of thine is turning 
All to harmony of tone. 

Like a seven-stringed lyre, its music 

Wakes within my throbbing breast 

All of bliss on earth it seeketh, 
In thy smile and fond caress. 



Could the forest leaves that's whisj^ering 
Love-notes tinged with emerald lire 

And light-illumined zephyrs listening, 
Echo love on nature's lyre ; 

Could this earth be naught but roses, 
Mountain high from sea to sea, 

All that sweet to sweets discloses 
Could not tell my love for thee. 



— 178 



Love' s bright coronet of i 



OSes 



Rests in beanty on thy brow, 
And the sweetness it discloses 
Thrills my spirit even now. 

And wlien in thine angel presence 

My full heart with bliss runs o'er, 

Like a magic crystal fountain 
That was never moved before. 

Can such joy be mine forever ? 

Can thy love its sweetness twine 
Round my glad heart, failing never "i 

Then I am thv Valentine. 



Love and roses ever blending 

On thy cheek and noble brow, 

And the blue that heaven is lending 
To thv love-lit eyes e" en now 

Shines into my soul's deep casket, 
Shines upon my throbbing heart ; 

Through long years I've tried to mask it. 
Bitter years from thee apart. 



— 174 — 

This world was all so dark to me, 

My spirit so benighted, 
But now, once more thine eyes I see, 

My inmost soul is lighted. 

Is lighted by love's magic j^ower, 
Is lighted by thy smiling ; 

Impatiently I hail the hour 

AYlien thee, my soul beguiling, — 

Shall. whisj)er words of hojDe and love 

In tones to me divine. 
Shall in our lives' sweet future prove 

One blissful Valentine. 



All of love and faith and worship 

Concentrated in one ]30wer 
Builds for thee truth's diamond temjjle ; 

Builds love's consecrated bower. 
Deep within the sacred haven 

Of my inmost heart of hearts, 
Tliere thine image deeply graven, 

There from all the world apart, 
Thou art worshipped, O, how fondly ! 

All my spirit thee enshrines. 
Couldst thou feel one half the rapture. 

Thou wouldst be my Valentine. 



175 



Our lives shall blend in joy and love, 

In harmony divine, 
As up Time's avenue we move, 
Our trust, our truth, our love we'll i3rove 

In one sweet Valentine. 



FRAGMENTS. 

Suspense, cameleon-hued, in vain 
Lifts up our hopes to let them fall again ; 
Mingles in sorrow's cup some looked-for Joy, 
But leaves no gold unmixed from base alloy. 



This day belongs three-fourths to other years. 

Made up of moments from the "Auld Lans 
Syne," 

Three-quarters left alone, long months apjjear 
To join the last, and name it twenty nine. 



As God to mighty chaos beauty's form has given 
Man, the last link connected earth with heaven, 
Yet, like a lamp unlit, his darkened mind 
Shone not, till Art illumined and refined. 



— 170 — 

Life's pleasures are too tleeriug far. 

Earth' s friendships all too brief : 
The lii-st is but a meteor- star. 

The last oft ends in £rrief . 



This book is a spoke iii life" s mystical wheel. 
Just noting events as their passings reveal. 
As it rolls swiftly forward it leaves in its trace 
The marks sad and srav time can never efface. 



As every rose its budding sweetness brings. 

So with each child that love for them is given 
Wliich to the mother's heart forever clings, 

Xor wanes with time, nor e'en bv death is riven. 



Oh. Morpheus I how sweetly thou closest oiu* eyes. 
And hasten our spirits to friends in the skies : 
They soothe ns, relieve us of all mental sorrow. 
And we rise filled ^^-ith sn-ength for the ills uf 
tomorrow. 



When from the empire of immortal mind. 
Each circling system rotates nnconfinnd. 
Advancing matter bursts the quiet sod 
And earth's bright beauties spring as thoughts from 
God. 



There worldly passions enter not. 

That blest abode of light : 
TTe nothing take from sorrow' s cup 

To mar a world so bright, 

TTe live and never mark the hoiu^s, 
Xor count the flight of time. 

For earthly hopes are blooming there 
In fragrance all divine. 



If I should wiite of worth or wit. 
The first or last I'm sure to hit : 
But if the first, their true selves prizing. 
Should hit me, 'tis bv wit's devising. 



Face the sun. and your thoughts will brighten : 
Count your blessings, and vour cares will liorhten. 



— 178 — 

All eartli to me was dark and drear, 
Until those blue eyes, beaming. 

Sent to my soul celestial liglit. 
By their seraphic seeming. 



All sounds to me were dull or shrill. 

Till thy angelic fingers 
Swept heavenly chords with easy skill. 

Even now the echo lingers 

I seem again to hear that strain. 
So charming, Joy-instilling, 

To be thy captive, I again 

List to thy song so thrilling. 



Thine own pure spirit, shining through 
Those lids of pearl, those eyes of blue. 
Shall never see a lovelier sight 
Than love thy sun, and truth thy light. 



If I could be this little gift, 
I never would my station shift ; 
I'd mark thy genius for my pride. 
And cling forever to thy side. 



179 



All ! distance now thy form obscures, 

Yet retrospection brings 
Thee baclv from where the fates still lure 

To bless love's offerina;. 



Then gird anew thine armor for the right, 

Forsake tlie world and all its glittering spray ; 

Its bubbles burst and soon are lost to sight, 

But truth shall light earth's darkness into day. 



Oh ! how I love that heavenly light, 

That beams from infants' lovely eyes, 
So pure, so sweet, so diamond-bright, 

So recent from the spirit skies. 
That glance to me is full of heaven. 

The shining of the sparkling soul, 
Whose power by Clod through nature given 

Shall soar awav from earth's control. 




W-vi: 



'mii 



i 


•f'/ ' "' 


11 



ix 



4^ 







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PROSE. 






'^^m 




4- ':'': 

i 



EXTRACTS FROM A WORK 
ON PHRENOLOGY. 



INTRODUCTION. 

In presenting this little work to the pnblic, I 
feel deeply the importance of the promulgation of 
the truths which it contains. The science which it 
demonstrates is neither known nor :q)preciated by 
the generality of mankind. Although it is not jDer- 
secuted witli that malevolence by which its intro- 
duction was at first characterized, yet the fact that 
but comparatively few believe in its truths, and a 
still less number investigate for themselves, is suf- 
ficient, at least, to warrant a deep solicitude for its 
j)resent success ; for of its ultimate adoption we 
have not the least doubt. 

Many who believe in the truth of this science, 
do not aj^preciate its utility. They view it merely 
as a subject which is calculated to gratify the curi- 
osity of individuals, by affording amusement for 
their leisure hours ; not as that science which is so 
intimately connected with the nature of man, that 
his most secret propensities, and thoughts ; his pri- 
vate character, dispositions ; his partialities and 
aversions, can be ascertained through the adoption 
of its agency. A knowledge of the philosophy of 
183 



184 



man lias been sought in all ages of the world, anct 
the most talented which have appeared at different 
periods of time, in the world's great theatre, have 
sought to solve this greatest of all earthly enigmas, 
the nature of man. But it was reserved for that 
sun which rested on the horizon of the eighteenth 
century, to shed its glorious light on the discovery 
of a truth, which had evaded all philosophical 
research for nearly six thousand years. 

Dr. Gall, the illustrious discoverer of the truths 
of mental philosophy, saw, ^^ith a penetration which 
only characterizes great minds, the necessity of a 
system of philoso^Dhy, which is capable of demon- 
strating the nature of man ; and the ardor and 
candor with which his investigations were made 
carry a deep conviction to the minds of all who are 
divested of i:)rejudice, that he was a sincere wor- 
shipper at the shrine of truth. Dr. Gall commenced 
his lectures on Mental Philosophy, at Vienna, in 
1796. His investigations were made inductively ; 
and gradually he ascended, step by step, the altar 
of that temi^le, whose turrets shall ever be entwined 
through the long vista of future ages, with laurels 
fresh with his own immortality. In 1800 he was 
prohibited lecturing by the government of Austria ; 
he then left his native country, and established his 
residence in France. Dr. Spurzheim here became 
his student, and in 1804 his associate. They tra- 



185 



veiled togetlier for eight years, and spent their 
whole time in investigating the science of Phre- 
nology. Since that i^eriod, this inestimable science 
has been gradually arising from the mists of igno- 
rance and prejudice, by which it has been so long- 
obscured, until many believe in the important truths 
which it contains ; but a far greater number, either 
do not believe, or are unwilling to acknowledge 
their belief, through fear of being thought singular ; 
or because it has not at present the strong bulwark 
of popular approbation to recommend it to the 
public. To those we would say, that, if there liad 
not been, in all ages, a few choice sx^irits, who have 
regarded trutli as more precious than popular favor, 
we should, even at this time, be obscured by that 
darkness which is the legitimate offspring of preju- 
dice and ignorance. 

We sincerely recommend this invaluable sci- 
ence to the candid attention of all. It is of use in 
every department of life, from the highest to the 
lowest. It is particularly useful in directing the 
training and education of children ; it is, therefore, 
requisite that women also should understand its 
princii)les, that they may direct the minds of child- 
ren, according to the requirements which it dictates, 
by training their moral sentiments, and cultivating 
their intellects; by restraining those propensities 
which tlireaten to pervert the very nature of the 



— 180 — 

child. It enables tliem to cultivate those which are 
but moderately developed, and restrain all within 
proper limits. It furnishes the means of ascertain- 
ing the profession, or occupation, to which a child is 
best suited, and enables tlie parent to decide scien- 
tifically, upon the path of future life which he will 
mark out for his child ; and which he is enabled to 
do with the greatest confidence in his ultimate suc- 
cess, knowing that his natural endowments qualify 
him for its accomplishment. If the feeble light 
which can be shed by so small a satellite as this lit- 
tle book, serves to conduct one individiuil into the 
apx)reciation of the light of truth, who has hitherto 
wandered in the opaque atmosphere of ignorance, 
the authoress will not regret any la])or, on her part, 
which may have contributed to the enlightenment 
of a fellow-being; and although she is gratified 
with the acquaintance of those whose minds are 
illuminated, yet she feels that there is more joy, 
in the heaven of intellectual fruition, over one who 
is won from the paths of ignorance and error, than 
over ninety and nine whose minds are already illu- 
minated with the light of trutli. With tlie hope 
that this little work may be received, with that 
attention to which the science it demonstrates is 
entitled, I cheerfully dedicate it to Science, which is 
the sun of the human mind. 



':'r/^ 




TEMPERAMENTS. 

We understand by this term tlie constitution of 
tlie brain ; and tliis constitution influences the i)hy- 
sical powers of the whole system. It is in fact 
the physical and mental constitution of the body. 
Those who have investigated the phenomena of liv- 
ing beings are aware that there is an endless variety 
of this phenomenon in the world, both in external 
appearance, degrees of activity, powers of endur- 
ance, etc. And this variety is not confined to the 
Anglo-Saxon race, but it appears in other nations ; 
even the African race presents a variety of tempera- 
ments, and it is not improbable that this variety 
extends to the most perfect animals ; and so along- 
down the scale of beings, it becomes less and less 
susceptible of observation, till it is finally lost in the 
minutia and inertness of matter. 
187 



M 



r^-. 



S 



•y^xM 



188 



Temperaments are, however, seldom found pure, 
but each individual presents the phenomena of a 
combination of different temperaments ; and these 
can be cultivated and modified in various ways. 
An immoderate indulgence in aliment and sleep will 
cultivate the lymphatic temperament ; intense appli- 
ciition to study will stimulate the nervous tempera- 
ment ; and strong muscular action will increase the 
bilious temperament. Thus, persons who have not 
naturally a favorable temperament, can, by their 
exertions to improve, change their temperament to 
a more favorable constitution of brain, and of the 
system. Hence, although we have no choice in the 
temperament whicli we Iuim at birth, yet, by our 
endeavors to improve, we may, in a measure, choose 
our own temperament ; we may at least have choice 
in that which we seek to obtain by cultivation. 

The temperaments are four in number, and are 
thus designated: Lymphatic, Sanguine, Nervous, 
and Bilious. 

I. — LYMPHATIC. 

The predondnance of the glands, and assimilat- 
ing organs, give rise to the Lymphatic Temx)erament, 
which is recognized by a pale skin, and a repletion 
of the cellular tissue by fatness, or a fulness of the 
membrane which contains the oily, or fatty portion 
of the system. This gives a round form, softness of 



189 



the muscular system, fair hair, sleepy eyes, and 
inexpressive face ; it is attended with languid vital 
action, drowsiness, inertness, a disposition to shun 
exercise, either physical or mental. There is a lan- 
guor and inertness which pervades the whole system, 
and this hinders the energy of the mental faculties, 
in proportion as it abstracts and debilitates their 
physical agent, viz.: the brain. Persons who have 
this temperament, free fi'om a combination of either 
of the other temperaments, are apt to look upon 
sensual gratifications as the highest source of enjoy- 
ment. To eat, and sleep, are ]3leasures to them, 
beyond the towering aspirations of ambition, the 
glittering anticipations of avarice, or the pure 
ethereal pleasures of intellectual fruition. This 
may be called the lowest of the temperaments, and, 
strictly speaking, is the animal temperament, or 
that constitution which is most common among 
animals ; and wiiich is always cultivated when 
animals are fattened for the slaughter house. And, 
when this is cultivated in human beings, it prepares 
them for the demise of the intellect, or a state of 
dormancy and inactivity for the mind, which at 
least renders it dead to activity, and indifferent to 
the happiness which a virtuous activity of the mind 
never fails to secure. Persons of lymphatic temj^era- 
ment cannot bear to study, or apj^ly themselves to 
mental application ; and it is totally impossible for 



190 



them to think profoundly. They are also averse to 
pliysical exercise of any kind. This temperament 
should never be cultivated beyond the requirements 
of nature, for, when it gets the ascendency, it turns 
tlie individual into a liuman animal, and unfits him 
for the ordinary duties of life. 

II, — NERVOUS TEMPERAMENT. 

The predominance of the brain and nerves gives 
rise to the Nervous Temperament. It is recognized 
hj a large brain, narrow features, rather a flat, 
spare form, fine thin hair, paleness of the counte- 
nance, and brightness of the eyes. A person of this 
temperament is grave and thoughtful, and very fond 
of mental exercise. He would sooner write a note 
than walk a square, but one of a sanguine temjDera- 
nient would walk two miles sooner than write a 
note. Children of this temperament should be 
kept from school until seven years old at least. 
The brain and nerves being predominantly active in 
this temperament, if they are excited and stimulated 
by a constant application to study, it extracts the 
nervous energy of the whole system to kee^^ up this 
undue activity, and the health declines, and not 
unfrequently an early grave terminates the parents' 
hopes. This temperament, with a well developed 
brain, is always attended with a precocity of intel- 
lect, and the stimulus of education which is a^Dplied 



— 191 — 

by parents and teachers, is tlie cause of so many 
rare geniuses finding an early grave. This tempera- 
ment is easily exhausted ; its activity is great, but 
its pov/ers of endurance are limited, and easily 
exhausted. Therefore, when this temperament pre- 
dominates, it is necessary to cultivate the sanguine ; 
and this can be accomplished by taking exercise in 
the open air. If this temperament predominates, 
the person is excitable and nervous, and is many 
times affected by the most trivial circumstances. 
These feelings of excitement may be measurably 
overcome by a thorough course of treatment, but 
not without an effort on the part of the individual. 
Persons of this temx^erament are subject to diseases 
of the brain, and most kinds of nervous complaints. 
Their lungs are not sufficiently developed to sup- 
port the action of the brain, and it is therefore 
necessary, to improve the health of such persons, 
that they practise athletic exercises ; riding on 
horseback, and walking, are exercises which will 
induce the sanguine temperament, and improve the 
health and spirits of those who have the nervous 
temperament. 

III. — SANGUINE TEMPERAMENT. 

This constitution of the brain and system takes 
its rise from a predominance of the lungs and blood 
vessels. It is usually accompanied by a florid com- 



192 



plexioii; blue or light eyes; red, chestnut, or 
auburn hair; smooth, round features; fulness of 
flesh and roundness of form ; full chest and well 
developed lungs, and is always attended with 
plethoric habits. This temperament is usually 
attended by a flow of spirits, by a buoyancy and 
hilarity of thought, which are usually accompanied 
by large hope and a cheerful disposition. Persons 
of this temperament are impatient of confinement ; 
they are fond of physical exercise, the whole system 
is filled with animation and a predisposition to 
activity, and this makes confinement not only tedi- 
ous, but painful. Children of this temperament 
should not be confined more than an hour at a time 
in school, without sending them out to play ; they 
get so uneasy and uncomfortable at school, by being 
kept still, hour after hour, that they acquire an 
early aversion for study, which the reason and 
reflection of after life is hardly able to eradicate. 
Persons of this temperament, when sick, are apt to 
be i^ery sick; and, if they recover, they improve 
much more rapidly than either of the temperaments 
l)efore mentioned. Those of this temperament have 
greater powers of endurance than the lymphati(; or 
nervous temperament, but not so great as the 
bilious. 



:i r::^'Zx<?^->. ■■. va^t-^^Yi^:! 



— 193 



BILIOUS TEMPERAMENT, 



This is usually designated b^^ dark, coarse hair, 
dark or black eyes, firm flesh, large bones and 
muscles, rather a coarse skin, with very strongly 
marked square features. The predominance of the 
muscular and fibrous systems gives rise to this tem- 
perament. It is characterized by great powers of 
endurance. 

What I have previously stated as regards com- 
plexion is very common for the bilious tempera- 
ment ; but there are exceptions to this general rule ; 
there are those, who are strongly marked with the 
bilious in their temperament, who have light hair 
ard eyes ; we then judge by the development of the 
muscular system, the skin, features, form, etc. 
Some children of the bilious temperament have light 
hair ; but, if they have it strongly marked, their 
eyebrows will be dark, and their hair will eventually 
become of the same color. This temperament, com- 
bined with the nervous, is characterized by great 
activity and endurance, and is decidedly a favorable 
constitution of the brain, for both mental and 
physical exercise. 

" This is trutli, tliough at eumity with the pliilosoph)^ of ages." 
—Dr. Gall. 



^'i^:^'^rMm^t;i::^- 



FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 

Order I. — Feelings or affective faculties. 
Genus I. — Propensity. 

VlTATIVENESS, OR A DESIRE TO LIVE. — In OUr 

intercourse with mankind, we find some strongly 
attached to life, and who would wish to live if their 
existence was miserable. On the other hand, we 
see others who care little about living, unless they 
can enjoy happiness. These observations confirm 
the opinion that there is an organ of Vitativeness, 
or love of life. We cannot discover its size during 
life, yet we can see the activity of the organ, some- 
times even in death ; and we therefore must believe 
that there is a great difference in persons about the 
manifestation of this faculty. There is also a dif- 
ference of opinion relative to the location of this 
faculty ; some contend that it is situated internally 
from Destructiveness, some between Combativeness 
and Destructiveness, while others locate it in the 
Mastoid Process. This last location is certainly 
wrong, for the mastoid jirocess is only a bone, 
which serves for an attachment of the muscles, and 
is always found more developed in a bilious tem- 
perament than any other. 



194 



195 



ALIMEN"TIVENESS. 

Use.— Gives a desire for food. 

Large.— The ijerson thinks much of eating, 
and will generally devour a considerable quantity of 
food ; it is more particular about quantity than 
quality ; will relish his food, and generally have a 
good appetite ; is fond of animal food, meats. This 
organ is much developed at birth, and tlie infant 
readily manifests a disposition to receive nourish- 
ment. 

Full. — Will be disposed to be particular about 
food, and will require precision in the preparation ; 
not remarkable for quantity, but particular about 
quality. 

Small. — Will cause the person to be dainty, 
and not fond of animal food ; very particular ; does 
not often get hungry ; will not eat at all, if he can- 
not have that which suits him ; indifferent to the 
pleas-ures of the table. 

I. — AMATIVENESS. 

Use.— Gives love for the opposite sex. 

Very Large.— Produces gallantry and polite 
attention, and a great fondness for the society of 
the opposite sex ; will idolize a companion. 

Large.— Will treat the opposite sex witli 
respect, and render them services cheerfully • will 



— 196 — 

not be likely to remain nnniarmHl ; will esteem a 
bosom companion very nincli, and will not be w^ant- 
ing in attention to them. 

Full. — Will not regard the opposite sex with 
great attention ; generally treats them with respect, 
but not inclined to partiality for them ; rather par- 
ticular in the choice of a companion ; not remarka- 
l>le in affability toward them. 

Small. — Indifference to the opposite sex ; not 
inclined to love ; not apt to engage in matrimony ; 
very difficult in the choice of a companion, and very 
likely to remain single; not unfrequently disgust 
and aversion towards the opposite sex. 

II. — PTIILOPROGENITIVENESS. 

Use. — A love for children and pets. 

Very Large. — Great attachment for children 
and pets, and exj^eriences much pleasure in fon- 
dling them ; over-indulgence to children, and is apt 
to spoil them by too much care and indulgence ; 
when this ])ropensity is not directed towards child- 
ren, it is apt to operate in the same manner upon 
pets. 

Large. — Much enjoyment in the society of 
children ; considers them a blessing ; will treat 
them well, and have a care and solicitude about 
them: but will requu'e them to be obedient, if com- 






197 



billed with lirmness ; will regard pels with xjleasure, 
and enjoy mucli happiness in attending them. 

Full. — Is not fond of very yonng children, but 
is more attached to those who are two or three years 
old ; prefers large pets, horses or dogs, l)ut does not 
like to be troubled with small pets of any kind. 

Small. — Aversion to children and i^ets ; dis- 
like for both, and a want of patience with them. 

III. — OON^CENTllATIVENESS. 

Use. — Gives the power of keeping two or more 
faculties of mind in a state of continuous activity. 

Veky Lahge. — Gives continuity of thought 
and feeling, and a j)ref erence of dw^elling on one sub- 
ject. The persons are apt to dwell on one subject, 
and weary their friends with the monotony of repeti- 
tion, or constantly dwelling on one particular thing ; 
it is impossible for them to turn their attention 
readily to a new subject. 

Lakge. — Gives the faculty of keeping the 
mind on one subject, and the power of mental con- 
centration ; is enabled to fix the thought at plea- 
sure on a subject, and is apt to dwell on one thing ; 
it is difficult to change to a variety of things. 

Full. — Is sometimes enabled to concentrate 
the thoughts, and at other times is not ; can readily 
turn tiie attention to different subjects; and is capa- 



198 



ble of entertaining company with an agreeable vari- 
ety of subjects. 

Small. — Is unable to fix the attention on a 
subject ; fickle minded ; constantly changing from 
one thing to another ; A\ill begin a piece of work, 
and leave it, and begin something neAV ; thoughts 
wander from the subject, and a difficulty of fixing 
the mind upon study. 

IV. — ADHESIVENESS. 

Use. — Attachment to home and friends. 

Very Laege. — Gives strength of attachment 
and love for friends, animate and inanimate objects ; 
never yields up a friend, whether in high or low 
circumstances ; is attached to flowers, plants, ani- 
mals, and things ; does not like to part with the 
smallest trifle which has been kept a great length of 
time ; feelings can be deeply wounded by the most 
trifling remarks from friends ; can very rarely see 
faults in friends, and is perfectly miserable when 
overlooked or slighted by friends. 

Lakge. — Strongly attached to friends, and 
capable of lasting friendship ; is happy in the soci- 
ety of friends, and, when absent from them, thinks 
of former friendships and happiness, and anticij^ates 
the pleasure of seeing them ; naturally aft'ectionate 
in disposition ; apt to l^e attached to the domestic 



199 



and social circle, and is much attached to whatever 
inanimate things the individual has in liis posses- 
sion ; is attaclied to animals and things. 

Full. — Is attached to friends, although not 
very strongly ; can treat them well, but does not 
regret leaving them ; is not so much attached, but 
can be contented when absent from friends ; can 
make friends with all, and not appreciate any very 
much ; not particularly attached to one place more 
than another. 

Small. — Does not care for one more than 
another ; is not attached to any particular place or 
person ; cannot appreciate friendship ; thinks it is 
merely an article of traffic, which can be obtained 
for money or favor ; is not a friend who can be 
relied on in times of need. 

V. — COMBATIVENESS. 

Use. — Courage and prompt action. 

Very Large.— Gives a spirit of opposition 
towards everyone ; a love of quarrelling and con- 
tention ; courts strife and opposition ; anger easily 
excited, and rage violent; imparts a harshness to 
the voice, and a sour, unpleasant expression to the 
whole countenance ; delights in prize fighting and 
l)oxing ; would rather fight than eat. 



200 



Large. — Gives a love of argumentative renson- 
iiig- ; courage ; anger when excited rather violent ; 
jiromptness in meeting danger coolly ; disposition 
to contend with those of different views and j)rin- 
ciples ; love of debate ; love of game fighting and 
j)ugilistic exercises ; if sharp, it is easily excited. 

Full. — Not very easily excited to anger; 
rather forbearing if insulted ; courage in most 
instances, but a lover of peace ; dislikes contention ; 
has an aversion to quarrelling ; is not pleased with 
IDUgilistic exercises ; not very fond of argument, 
unless considerably excited ; can then hear an argu- 
ment discussed with evident satisfaction. 

Small. — Cowardly, and afraid of the shadow 
of opx^osition ; have not even courage sufficient to 
enable them to express their own ox)inions ; defi- 
ciency in promptitude and courage ; frightened at 
the name of argument ; cannot appreciate argument, 
but regard it as synonymous with quarrelling ; can- 
not appreciate the difference between argumentative 
reasoning and scolding. 

VI. — DESTRUCTIVElSrESS. 

Use. — Force and energy of character. 

Very Large.— Gives a relish for bloodshed; 
is delighted with the havoc of the battlefield, and 
the extermination of war ; great restlessness and 



201 



energy of character ; perfect cornxoosiire when life 
is in peril ; thinks more readily when under the 
stimulus of danger than where none exists. 

Large. — Gives energy and force of character: 
never loses self possession in the most imminent 
danger ; cannot bear to be baffled in success in any 
undertaking ; is in haste to succeed in business of 
any kind ; often in a great hurry ; does not like to 
wait for anything ; never likes to give up an under- 
taking, and bears affliction with the greatest forti- 
tude. 

Full. — Considerable energy and force of char- 
acter, but is not so impatient of success ; can wait 
patiently ; does not feel disappointment so deeplj^ ; 
sometimes is capable of exercising fortitude, and at 
other times sinks beneath the weight of affliction. 

Small. — Cannot witness surgical operations; 
deficient in force of character ; is not particular 
about the execution of business, always conceiving 
that there is time enough ; never frets about, busi- 
ness ; takes the world easy, and loves to lie in bed 
until late in the morning ; is aj^t to j^ut off every 
thing until the last minute ; gets into conversation 
with a friend, and fails to fulfil an engagement ; is 
not apt to be imnctual. 



202 ■ 



TII. — SECRETIVEJSTESS. 



Use. — Prudence and reserve of manner, 

Yeky Large. — Hyj^ocrisy and dishonesty; 
takes pleasure in keeping every thing secret ; 
inclined to commit theft, from the mere i^leasure of 
secreting things ; wishes to assume a character 
which it does not possess ; cunning, artful, and sly ; 
characterized by falsehood and double dealing ; 
closed mouth, and half shut eyes. 

Large. — Takes delight in keeping back some- 
thing which it does not reveal ; prudent and reserved 
in conversation ; considers the confidence rejiosed in 
it sacred, and will not violate it by revealing it to 
another ; feels the prox)riety and necessity of hav- 
ing what does not particularly interest another 
kept. 

Full. — Can keejD a secret, but feels no ^^ar- 
ticular pleasure in so doing; is not apt to keep 
secret from friends ; ratlier frank and open in con- 
versation ; abhors hypocrisy, and would not defraud 
or deceive another; sometimes tells things which 
had better be kei)t ; is not apt to believe others 
deceitful ; is averse to lying or deception ; loves 
truth and justice. 

Small. — Cannot keep a secret; tells things 
which had better be kept ; is imjorudent, and often 
commits itself, in exposing little faults which a 



208 



good develoi3ment of this faculty would conceal ; 
cannot be trusted with a secret ; will as soon tell 
things which are against themselves as others ; it is 
extremely i^ainful to keep a secret ; is not cele- 
brated for wisdom, but "uttereth all his mind." 

VIII. — ACQUISITIVENESS. 

Use. — DisiDosition to provide for future want. 

Very Large. — Incites to covetousness and 
avarice ; immoderate love of gain ; theft and fraud 
when combined with secretiveness ; disposition to 
take advantage in a bargain ; a grasping, insatiable 
thirst for money, and an idolatrous worship of gold ; 
disposition to steal ; sordid, mercenary, and avari- 
cious, without sympatliy or charity ; wishes to be 
considered wealthy, and is subject to fits of insanity 
by heavy losses. 

Large. — Loves to acquire wealth ; is gratified 
with gain ; close in calculating in pecuniary matters, 
looking sharx) for the best of the bargain ; is careful 
in the distribution of money, and is prudent in the 
bestowal of charities ; economizes and saves, and 
thinks much of small profits ; is miserable without 
means, and is tenacious of its own rights, and sub- 
ject to insanity, with loss of property. 

Full. — ^ Regards wealth more as a means than 
end of hapx^iness ; loves to spend money, is liberal 



204 



minded, and cannot appreciate the feeling of ava- 
rice ; loves to acquire, but is most delighted in 
spending money ; does not care to be thought rich. 
S31ALL. — Cannot appreciate wealth at all ; does 
not care to be rich ; loves to give and spend money ; 
is very liberal in bestowing gifts, and often gives 
to unworthy objects ; cannot realize the neces- 
sity of property ; would scarcely steal to save 
life ; does not realize the value of money, only when 
stimulated by the greatest necessity ; never acquires 
wealth, or keeps that long which it inherits from 
others. 

IX. — CONSTRUCTIVENESS. 

Use. — Gives a desire to build, model, and con- 
struct. 

Very Large. — Gives great talent for inventing 
machinery ; love of mechanism ; desire to build ; 
delights in malting new models ; ingenuity in pro- 
ducing new machinery, and improving that Avhicli 
has been invented by others; is apt to dip into 
several kinds of mechanical business ; is apt to 
spend leisure hours in modeling for pastime. 

Large. — Combined with large form, gives a 
ready perception of forming a whole, from several 
detached parts ; ingenuity in modeling and build- 
ing, in architecture, mechanism, furniture, dress ; 
is of use in the construction of a sentence. 



_- 90.-) _ 

Full. — Can learn medianism, Init is not natu- 
rally possessed of strong meclianical genius ; can 
become a manufacturer, but not an inventor ; con- 
siderable ingenuity if well cultivated. 

Small. — Has little idea of perfection in mech- 
anism ; cannot learn a trade of any kind ; has no 
taste for constructing, and little or no ingenuity in 
j)utting detached parts together. 

X. — SELF-ESTEEM. 

Use. — Personal dignity, pride, and independ- 
ence. 

Yeky Lakge. — Expects the homage of every 
one as a matter of course; esteems his own jadg- 
ment altogether better than any other person's ; 
carries the head backward, and evinces an air of 
self-importance in every word and action ; quarrel- 
some, if contradicted ; loves to command, but can- 
not bear control or restraint of any kind ; has an 
elevated opinion of his own talents and judgment. 

Large. — Confidence in self; not easily embar- 
rassed; rather important in carriage, and assumes 
an air of personal dignity and independence; has 
an opinion that his own judgment is better than 
others' ; also, that his talents are of a sujoerior kind, 
and that he should be esteemed on account of 
extraordinary merit ; always self-possessed in com- 
pany. 



— 20G - 

Full. — Not over positive in self-confidence; 
often embarrassed in the company of superiors ; 
modest and retiring in disposition, etc.; able to 
appreciate the opinions of others, and to improve in 
manners. 

Small. — A feeling of inferiority, and a want of 
self-confidence ; bashfulness, and a dislike to go 
among strangers ; embarrassment in company, and 
a want of confidence in his own abilities ; does not 
appreciate his own talents; is not aware that he 
possesses any. 

XI. — APPROBATI YENESS. 

Use. — Gives a sense of honor and reputation, 
and a desire for the good opinion of others. 

Very Large. — Is very sensitive to either praise 
or censure ; affable in manners, and solicitous to 
please all ; aspiring and ambitious, desirous of 
fame, and has a nice perception of that which is 
agreeable to others ; covets praise, and aspires after 
fame ; scorns a mean action ; thinks more of a good 
name than of wealth ; will yield its own judgment 
to please others. 

Large. — Desires the applause of others, and 
seeks to promote a good name ; is desirous of ris- 
ing in the world, and will not be contented with a 
common lot, but asj^ires after that which will insure 



20: 



popularity ; seeks to win the applause of others by 
courteous demeanor and obliging manners. 

Full. — Is fond of the good opinion of others, 
but does not feel very unpleasant if it does not 
obtain it ; rather independent ; cares little compara- 
tively for popular opinion ; is not very affable in 



manner 



Small.— No perception of that which is agree- 
able to others ; cares nothing about what others think 
of him ; independent and apt to offend by insolent 
behavior ; no sense of honor ; cares little for repu- 
tation ; is not inffuenced by what the world may 
think of his conduct. 



XIL— CAUTIOUSTfESS. 



Use.— Prompts to take care and avoid danger. 

Very Laege.— Induces great solicitude about 
the future ; care and anxiety, accompanied with 
fear of success in business ; cowardice, indecision, 
and hesitancy ; fearing how to act ; subject to mel- 
ancholy and despondency ; looks on the dark side 
of life, and always doubtful about success. 

Laege.— Takes care to look well to the result 
in any new business transaction ; prompts to take 
care, and not trust much to others ; is solicitous of 
success, and often lacks confidence in believing 
itself successful ; prudent in foresight, and fearful 



— 208 — 

of danger; somewhat incliued to a depression of 
spirits at times ; is careful in avoiding danger, and 
has a foresight in anticipating danger. 

Full. — Is not mucli afraid of danger ; does not 
apprehend unfavorable circumstances ; courage and 
deliberation ; apt to engage in business without 
much reflection ; not fearful of consequences ; not 
cowardly. 

Small. — Is not capable of apprehending danger 
at all ; liable to accidents from want of foresight ; 
is not afraid of anything ; always rushing forward 
into danger ; often getting into difficulty, through a 
want of reflection ; does not know the fear of any- 
thinir. 



MORAL SENTIMENTS. 

XIII. — BENEVOLENCE. 

Use.— Clemency, charity, sympathy, and a 
desire to do good. 

Very Large.— Gives a feeling of sympathy 
and charity, and a feeling of distress for the miseries 
of others ; forbearance, and a disposition to admin 
ister to the wants of others ; will give away the last 



W 



^ 



2( )9 



shilling; not apt to be in possession of much 
wealth ; too liberal to get rich. 

Large. — Wishes to do good; sympathizes 
deeply, and always desires to relieve the distress of 
others ; entertains charitable feelings for other per- 
sons, and is rather liberal in the distribution of 
funds ; kind hearted, and solicitous to relieve the 
unfortunate ; apt to patronize charitable institutions. 

Full. — Is apt to be just before being generous ; 
gives occasionally, but not without reflection ; some- 
times is charitably disposed, but never deeply sym- 
pathetic ; not very charitable in forming a judgment 
relative to the intentions of others ; rather inclined 
to suspicion. 

Small. — Jealous and ill disposed, without 
sympathy or charity ; would see a i3erson starve 
without rendering them aid ; ungenerous and uncour- 
teous in deportment, and unkind in disposition ; 
sordid, avaricious, and penurious. 

XIV. — VEXEKATION, 

Use. — Adoration, reverence, and a feeling of 
awe for superior powers, etc. 

Very Large. — Enthusiasm in matters of 
religion ; love of religious worship ; depth of devo- 
tional feeling ; reverence for the Divine Being, and 
a love of theological studies, and the contemx^lation 



l^ 



210 



of divine things ; very great respect for the opinions 
of others ; enthusiastic and sux^erstitious. 

Laege. — A love of religions worship; rever- 
ence for the superior powers ; is solicitous to attend 
religious exercises ; fond of going to church ; will- 
ing to view the opinions of others with deference 
and respect; reverence for old people, and ancient 
things ; respect for suj)eriors, talent, and superiority 
in anything. 

Full. — Religion arises more from sense of 
duty than of feeling; does not feel deeply devo- 
tional ; has some respect for the opinions of others, 
although, on the whole, not very deferential ; not 
much affected by religious excitement. 

Small. — Cares nothing about a.ttending to 
religious concerns ; cannot feel a devotional spirit ; 
infidel in principle, and averse to religious exer- 
cises ; no respect for the opinions of others ; no 
reverence for age, or respect for superiors ; cannot 
appreciate the difference between objects of reve- 
rence. 

XV. — FIRMNESS. 

Use, — Decision of character, prom^^tness of 
purpose, constancy, and stability. 

Yeiiy Lakge. — Tenacious of opinions, cannot 
be moved by x)ersuasion ; obstinate in adhering to 
preconceived opinions ; perseverance, will not give 



211 



up an undertaking or an opinion ; decision of cha- 
]-a('ter, immovable, and fixed ; dislikes to give up 
when convinced of wrong ; disposition to stick to 
one thing ; will have their own way. 

Large. — ^ Always has a mind of his own, but 
willing to give up when convinced of the truth of a 
thing ; constancy and stability ; perseverance and 
determination of x>urpose ; cannot be easily per- 
suaded. 

Full. — Kot very fixed in principles ; has an 
idea of retaining his own views, but does not adhere 
to them strongly ; not obstinate or wilful in dis- 
position, but yielding by solicitation. 

Small. — Fickle-minded; cannot be said to 
have a mind of his own ; will always fall in with the 
views and opinions of others ; wavering and unde- 
cided, cannot rely upon themselves ; no dependence 
can be had on their promises, constantly changing. 

XYI. — CONSCIENTIOUSNESS. 

Use. — A just sense of the rights of others; an 
internal monitor. 

Very Large. — A feeling of fear that they have 
said or done something which is not correct ; con- 
stantly fretting, for fear that all is not right; 
worrying about things of minor importance ; equity 
and a sense of the rights of others ; a care to render 
to others their just dues. 



212 



Largp:. — A disposition to render unto others 
their rights indei)endent of law, a sense of duty ; 
will endeavor to do right, because tliey have a desire 
to do good, from a sense of what is just and equi- 
table ; moral honesty, and a clear sense of Avliat is 
right. " 

Full. — Seeks to do right in the main, but is 
not i^articular about little things ; does not feel con- 
scientious about trifles, or feel much disturbed by 
making a good bargain. 

Small. — Cares very little about tlie rights of 
others ; deficient in a sense of justice ; has a very 
little idea of moral honesty ; no remorse for crime, 

XVII. — HOPE. 

Use. — Anticipation of hapi^iness, expectation 
of success. 

Very Large. — Elevation of spirits ; confidence 
in future good ; always looks on the bright side of 
the question, and is apt to build castles in the air ; 
looks forward to future happiness with the greatest 
confidence of attainment. 

Large. — Indulges in pleasing anticipations; 
elastic and buoyant in spirits, and always sanguine 
of success ; looks on the bright side, and tnkes the 
world easy, in consequence of believing that there 
is happiuess just ahead, and, if dis:ii)pointed in one 
object, he fii(\s to the Jiexi, (id in fin i/ nut. 



— 218 — 

Full. — Sometimes indulges in anticipations of 
happiness, but many times is rather inclined to 
look on the other side of the picture ; is subject to 
alternations of expectancy and despondency, some- 
times elevated, and sometimes depressed. 

Small. — Cannot anticipate happiness; apt to 
be depressed in si^irits, inclined to gloom and 
despondency ; naturally of a melancholy turn of 
mind, and apt to be of a retiring disi30sition ; often 
feels disposed to relinquish the world, feels un- 
happy, l^ut does not know the cause. 

XVIII. — makvellousness. 

Use. — Originality of thought and feeling ; love 
of novelty, and the investigation of whatever is new- 

Very Large. — Credulousness ; religious belief, 
and a belief in many supernatural phenomena and 
wonderful occurrences; decidedly original in 
tlioughts and feelings ; strongly disposed to wonder- 
ful representations. 

Large. — Original in writing and speaking, 
would much ratlier write their own thoughts, than 
to copy those of another person ; inclined to cre- 
dulity, but enjoys much X)leasure in investigating 
whatever is new ; will not liave a blind belief with- 
out investigation, but will readily be convinced by 
facts ; love of novelty, and a belief in the possibility 
of improving even the most ])erfect system. 



il^'rr:'^?iiLr^7^^^.^^i^:^:c■'■:i^i■■y 



— 214 — 

Full. — Not remarkable for originalitj^ of 
talent ; rather pleased witli novelty, yet takes no 
particular pleasure in the investigation of new 
tilings ; rather skeptical about things with which 
they are not acquainted ; require abundance of 
2iroof to convince them ; believes in God. 

Small. — Disbelief in everything pertaining to 
phenomena for which it cannot account; skeptical 
and doubtful about the existence of a Supreme 
Being ; no originality of talents ; a copyist, one 
who cannot write his own thoughts, or, in other 
words, has very few original ideas. 

XIX. — IDEALITY. 

Use. — Love of perfection ; elevation of thoughts 
and feelings. 

Yeky Large. — A vivid imagination; dissatis- 
faction with the things of earth ; asi)irations after 
perfection ; poetic sentiments, a love of imagery ; 
a love of beautiful visions ; admiration of the 
l:)eautif ul ; delight in perfection ; disgust of things 
in real life ; talent for writing composition, and a 
refinement of manners. 

Laiige. — A love of the imagery of thought, 
and imaginary descrii)tions ; loves poetic senti- 
ments, whether expressed in verse or x)rose ; admires 
flowers, dress, and beautiful paintings ; an admirer 



— 215 — 

of beauty and perfection ; a nice perception of per- 
fection in language, a pure, chaste style. 

Full. — Cannot appreciate poetic sentiments; 
perception of the beautiful not vivid; taste not 
peculiarly refined, neither very bad nor very good ; 
cannot appreciate anything imaginary; plain mat- 
ter-of-fact in speech, without refinement or elevation 
of language. 

Small. — Coarse and vulgar in manners; no 
taste for refinement, arts, or sciences ; rude and 
uncultivated, never will improve to any extent with 
the best advantages for cultivation ; no apprecia- 
tion of the beautiful. 

sublimity. 

Use. — Enjoys and appreciates grandeur and 
natural phenomena. 

Very Lakge. — Is thrilled with pleasure in the 
contemplation of nature, es^Decially in the observa- 
tion of the grand and terrific. 

Lakge. — Love for the phenomena of nature 
which are sublime and terrible, like the roar of the 
waterfall, the swelling surges of the ocean, the 
elevation of the highest mountain, the depression of 
the dark, deep cavern, the circling eddies of the 
whirlpool, the thrilling bursts of the volcano, and 
the terrific commotion of the elements; loves to 
watch the glare of the Ho-htning among the clouds. 



216 



Full. — Cares very little about scenery or ro- 
mantic prospects ; has very little taste for contem- 
plating the grandeur of natural objects ; cannot 
appreciate the harmony of tlie operations of nature. 

Small. — Filled with disgust and horror at 
natural X)henomena ; dislike to vieAv the ocean ; fear 
in a thunder storm ; no taste for tlie wonderful 
operations of nature. 

X X. — .AI I KTH FU LLNESS . 

Use. — Produces a sense of comicality ; causes 
laughter. 

Very Laiige. — Love of fun and laughter, and 
will ridicule every thing, even those of solemn 
import ; will sport even witli deatli and eternity ; 
buffoonery. 

Large. — Fond of liilarity and mirth; a love of 
fun, and a fondness for the society of tliose who 
enjoy a flow of spirits, and a cheerful disposition ; a 
perception of incongruity; a love of ridicule and 
witticisms, jes tings, etc. 

Full. — Can appreciate mirtli, but more dis- 
posed to say something to make others laugh, than 
to laugh themselves ; not strongly disposed to jest- 
ing, but is very sarcastic at times. 

Small. — No taste for mirth or fun, seldom 
laughs ; sour and morose in disposition ; cannot 
appreciate ijleasantry in others. 



217 — 



XXI. — I.ALITATION. 



Use. — Copying the manner and gesticulation of 
others. 

Very LAK<iE. — Takes pleasure in mimicry; 
can copy with a perfect exactitude the voice, man- 
ners, and actions of others ; has a partiality for the 
stage. 

Lakge. — Can coj^y the expression and manners 
of others ; is pleased with an exact representation 
of character ; is successful in imitating the voice 
and manner of others ; is jjleased wath theatrical 
acting, and has no difficulty in imitating others. 

Full. — Can imitate workmanship, but takes no 
particular pleasure in mimicry ; cannot imitate 
manner and gesture successfully ; has not much 
taste for theatrical performances. 

Small. — Cannot imitate any thing; has no 
idea of copying even workmanship ; no taste for 
theatrical acting. 



Order II — InteJlectual faculties. 
Gexus I. — External senses, — hearing, seeing, 
taste, and smell. 

Gextts II. — Fercepttm faculties. 



SIS- 



INDIVIDUALITY. 



Use. — Tak(3S cognizance of individuals and 
tilings. 

Yeuy Large. — Always observes and remem- 
l)eis individuals ; carries the image of an object in 
the mind ; memory for individuals and things ; can 
readily recognize an acquaintance, after an absence 
of many years. 

Large. — Readily observes and remembers faces 
and objects ; a shrewd observer of men and things ; 
remembers the form of objects ; takes particular 
notice of everything by which it is surrounded. 

Full. — Cannot readily remember individuals ; 
does not notice things particularly ; memory for 
forms and faces not remarkably good. 

Small. — Cannot remember either persons or 
things ; never notices anything in particular ; can- 
not remember the form of things ; forgetful, liable 
to mistakes. 



Use. — Gives perception of configuration, mem- 
ory of shape and external dimensions. 

Very Large. — Can readily recognize the exact 
shape and external dimensions of a thing; has a 
correct judgment of outline in general : talent for 
drawin<>i:. 



— 219 — 

Large. — Good memory of shape, and can 
judge accarately of external appearances ; a just 
memorj^ of general configuration ; and is essential 
in writing. 

Full. — Has not a very accurate conception of 
general outline ; not remarkable for judging of form. 

Small.— Cannot perceive the shape of things ; 
has no perception of general outline ; is unable to 
describe the form of tilings. 

XXIV. SIZE. 

Use. — ^ Memory of space, magnitude, distance, 
proportion. 

Veey Large. — A just appreciation of distance ; 
can judge accurately of the sjiace between two 
objects. 

Large. — Can readily judge of distance and 
space, and give an accurate description of size; 
understands proportion, space, and magnitude. 

Full. — Has some idea of distance, but not 
remarkably accurate. 

Small. — Has no judgment of s]3ace or distance ; 
cannot discern the space between objects. 



.i-^r-.'-jD^r 



220 



XXV. AVEK^IIT. 

Use. — Perception of equilibrium, power of 
judging of dense bodies. 

Yery Laikie. — Can judge accurately of tlie 
momentum and resistance of dense bodies ; can 
stand in an elevated place without anything to hold 
by, without fear of falling. 

Large. — Good judgment of the density of 
bodies ; good x^ercejDtion of weight, and can easily 
balance in elevated positions. 

Full. — Can judge of the density of bodies, 
Init not accurately, unless much cultivated. 

Small. — Cannot stand in an elevated place 
without unpleasant feelings ; cannot judge of the 
weight of bodies ; will frequently fall ; cannot bal- 
ance very well. 

XXVI. — COLOR. 

Use. — Perception of different colors, and a cor- 
rect judgment of them. 

Yery Large. — Can readily i^erceive the exact 
shade of color, cannot bear those that are dull or 
obscure, but is remarkably fond of brilliant colors. 

Large. — Good perception and judgment of 
colors ; can readily distinguish tints, is fond of 
bright, clear colors ; can distinguish between minute 
shades of color. 



221 



Full. — Can tell prominent colors, but cannot 
<listinii:insli between minute shades ; perception of 
<*olor not remarkably keen. 

Small. — ^ Cannot distinguish one color from 
another; cannot even distinguish between promi- 
nent colors ; no taste for them. 

XXVII. LOCALITY. 

Use. — Perception and memory for the location 
of different places. 

Yeky Large. — Can judge x^i'^cisely of the 
point of compass under the most unfavorable cir- 
cumstances ; never is at a loss to find the way ; can 
always remember the situation of a place after see- 
ing it once ; is remarkably fond of travelling and 
viewing different kinds of scenery. 

Large. — Loves to travel, and is very seldom 
troubled al)0ut telling precisely the point of the 
compass ; possesses good perception and memory 
for the locality of places ; fond of travelling ; can- 
not be lost, either in a forest or large town. 

Full. — Has an idea about localities, but not 
a shrewd perce]3tion of them ; does not remember 
the sitnation of different places distinctly. 

Small. — Has no idea of the situation of differ- 
ent places ; cannot remember them ; cannot find the 
wav either in the town or countrv. 



XXVIII. — XIMBKR. 

UsE.^ — Power of numerical calculutioii, and a 
love for the study of mathematics. 

Very Large. — A ready computation lor num- 
bers, and a x^assion for the study of niatliematics. 

Large. — Can solve a i^roblem in the mind 
without marking figures ; has the j^ower of a ready 
and easy computation of numbers ; is fond of the 
study of mathematics, and excels in numerical cal- 
culation. 

Pull. — Can compute numbers, although is not 
partial to the study of arithmetic ; if cultivated, can 
become a good arithmetician. 

Small. — Cannot ai^j^reciate arithmetic; dis- 
likes the idea of numbers ; cannot compute them ; 
can never excel in the study of arithmetic. 



Use. — Gives a perception of order and physical 
arrangement. 

Very Larc;e. — Cannot bear to see things dis- 
arranged, loves neatness and order. 

Large. — A just sense of physical arrangement; 
a love of order and p>recision in tlie adjustment of 
the furniture of a room; a love of neatness and 
exactitude, and a good taste in the arrangement of 



— 22-1 — 

dress, or the arraiiiieineiit of a sentence in comjx)- 
sition. 

Full. — Likes to see things in order, but will 
take no particular pains to put things in 2:»lace, and 
has not a nice perception of arrangement. 

S31ALL. — Cares nothing about order; cannot 
appreciate it ; does not know when things are 
arranged ; careless and slovenly in dress and general 
appearance ; indifferent to neatness, and averse to a 
proper arrangement. 

XXX. — EVENTUALITY. 

Use. — Takes cognizance of events and circum- 
stances. 

YEr.Y Large. — A i3articular memory for events 
and circumstances. Excels in biographical and 
historical descriiDtions ; can remember all the most 
imiwrtant events in history in perusing it only once ; 
large in all who distinctly recollect the scenes of 
early childhood. 

Large. — Recollects events and circumstances; 
a retentive memory for events. This organ A^-as 
formerly called "upper educibility ' ' by Dr. Gall; 
and individuality was called "lower educibility." 
Ijut Avlien the functions of these were ascertained, 
it was discovered that the function of this was for 
events, and that for individuals and objects. 



224 



Full. — Can remember events tolerably well 
wiien young, but loses the powers of memory at an 
early age ; lias not a retentive memory for events. 

Small. — Cannot remember events at all; for- 
gets readily the occurrence of circumstances. 

XXXI. TIME. 

Use. — Perception of time in music; memory 
for time and dates. 

Very Laiic^e. — Can readily judge of time in 
music, and tell very accurately the time of day 
without consulting the clock ; a great memory for 
dates. 

Large. — Good preception of time, and a just 
idea of the time of day ; can keep time in music, 
and readily detect mistakes in regard to it. 

Full, — Has an idea of time in music, but not a 
just perception of its exactitude ; can be cultivated 
to have a clearer perceijtion, and a better judgment 
of limited duration. 

Small. — Can have no just conception of time ; 
cannot judge of the time of day, or of time in 
music ; can ai^preciate time no way. 



225 



XXXir. — TUNE. 

Use.— Perception of sound, and a just appre- 
ciation of music. 

Veiiy Large. — Can readily distinguish, tones 
and appreciate melody ; can very readily learn dif- 
ferent tunes, and is very fond of music. 

Large. — Good perception and appreciation of 
harmony ; can tell when a tune is played or sung 
correctly, and can readily learn music. 

Full. — Has a perception of sound, but is not 
remarkably fond of music ; tune can be cultivated, 
so as to perform music very well. 

Small. — Can have no idea of music, and can- 
not designafe the difference between a dead march 
and a quickstep. 

XXXIII. — language: 

Use. — Gives the power of expressing words. 

Yery Large. — Talks very much, and is never 
at a loss for words to express ideas ; can readily 
learn languages, and has a great j)ower of language. 

Large. — Can always express their ideas 
clearly ; rather sociable ; has a quick perception of 
accuracy in language ; can readily learn languages, 
and has a good memory for words. 

Full. — Cannot readily express themselves sat- 
isfactorily, but with other faculties well developed 



'^-^f^^^'m^^:;^:^ ^^''^m^iBxm 




— 226 — 

can learn languages ; can be cultivated so as to 
speak with much perfection. 

Small. — Cannot express what they feel ; often 
have a rush of ideas which they have not language 
to express ; cannot readily learn languages. 

XXXIV. — COMPAKISON. 

Use.— Compares different things, and draws 
the analogy between them. 

Yeey Large. — Always comj^aring different 
things, and speaking of the analogy, reasons by 
comparison ; readily calls up associations in the 
mind. 

Large. — Compares different things, and draws 
the analogy; fond of reasoning by comparison; 
can readily see the resemblance between different 
things ; is enabled to classify and associate ideas 
which have a resemblance. 

Pull. — Can compare different things, but does 
not reason profoundly in this manner ; has an idea 
of association, but cannot readily classify ideas. 

Small. — Can have no idea of the comparison of 
different things; cannot see a resemblance where 
one actually exists ; cannot reason well. 



^ 



XXXV, — CAUSALITY. 

Use. — Seeks to know the cause of all tilings. 

Very Large.- — Impatient to know the reason, 
the why and wherefore ; seeks to know the depend- 
ence of phenomena, and ascertain the cause ; will 
not believe unless a satisfactory cause can be 
assigned. 

Large. — Fond of investigating cause and 
effect ; appreciates logic ; loves to inquire into the 
cause of all phenomena ; cannot rest satisfied with- 
out knowing the cause. 

Full. — Is not very expert in divining the 
cause ; cannot readily trace the dependence of phe- 
nomena ; can reason, but not expertly. 

Small. — Cannot appreciate cause and effect ; 
cares nothing about the cause ; cannot investigate 
deeply ; cares nothing about philosophical investi- 
gation ; is not profound. 

A MEMORY" FOR PROPER NAMES. 

I am aware that many phrenologists do not 
admit that the memory of a name is an organ by 
itself, separate and apart from the organ of lan- 
guage, or any other part of the memory. But, 
after noticing this organ, I have examined more 
than three hundred persons' heads, and have found, 
by observation, that the lower corner of tune, 



228 ■ 



immediately above the organ of number, is appro- 
priated to the memory of proj^er names ; and 
where tune is a fulness, corresponding to the deve- 
lopments of tune and number, the memory of pro- 
X)er names is large ; but where there is dej^ression in 
this i^art, that it is small. It is supposed by many 
I)hrenologists that the memory of names is simply 
a part of the organ of language ; and I must confess 
that I once entertained these views myself ; but, in 
examining different individuals who had the organ 
of language large, I found many unable to remem- 
))er names. This fact led me to investigate the sub- 
ject still farther. It appeared very improper, at 
first, to locate the memory for names so far from 
individuality, eventuality, or locality ; but, in reflect- 
ing still farther uj^on the location of this organ, I 
conceive tune to be a perception and memory of 
sound, and a memory of proper names is only a 
memory of a different kind of sound ; hence I can 
see no impropriety in what I believe to be its pre- 
sent location, below tune, and above number. 






SIZE OF THE CRANIUM. 

There is a great contrast in the size of the heads 
of different individuals, yet we consider size as a 
measure of power, all otlier things being equal. 
That is, age, health, exercise, form, and tempera- 
ment being the same in two individuals, the one 
having the largest brain will possess the most 
powerful intellect. I conceive it essential to men- 
tion /br??^, in connection with size, for this reason : 
that two persons may have all the other conditions 
requisite for us to decide in favor of size, and the 
one who has the largest brain may have a predomi- 
nance of the selfish and animal propensities, and the 
other a predominance of the moral and intellectual ; 
and, in this case, the latter would possess the most 
energetic mind, although the size of his brain was 
not equal to the former. Yet, when the form of the 
brain is mentioned, together w^ith the otlier things 
requisite, there is not the least difficulty in coming 
at the truth, relative to the one which possesses the 
strongest mental manifestations. 

There are various means employed in ascertain- 
ing the size of the cranium by different phrenolo- 
gists; craneometers, callipers, etc., have been used 
successfully in ascertaining the size of the head. 
But, as these different apparatuses do not give us 
the indloidual size of the organs, we are obliged to 
229 



230 



examine them separately, in order to ascertain tlieir 
size, and the balancing power which one organ exer- 
cises over another, and judge correctly of character, 
talents, etc., of tlie indiindual who is examined. 



PHRENOLOGY. 

Could Phrenology be received and practised as 
a science, how great would be the advantages derived 
from its adoption ; how many who are now duped 
and imposed upon by the artful and designing 
would be able, at one glance, to read their disposi- 
tions l^y the configuration of their heads, and thus 
have it in their power to anticipate their intentions 
before they had realized the mortification of tlieir 
duplicity. I never go into a public audience with- 
out being somewhat amused with the difference 
which I observe in the configuration of heads ; each 
indicating the particular disposition and talents of 
its i^ossessor, both as multifarious as that endless 
variety of disposition and intellect which charac- 
terize mankind. If the speaker is a stranger, 
whom I have never heard before, I can generally 
determine what kind of a sermon or lecture we shall 
be treated with, by the appearance of his phre- 
nological developments and temperament, — for 



231 



tem2:)erament lias a great influence uj^on mental 
manifestations. If the speaker is of a nervous-bil- 
ious, or sanguine-nervous temperament, witli the 
moral and intellectual faculties in tlie ascendency, 
with a fair development of ideality, and good re- 
flective faculties, with concentrativeness full, and 
large sublimity, the sermon or lecture will be full 
of interest, and the subject will be kept from cloy- 
ing the understanding by those lovely images and 
lofty imaginings which arise spontaneously in a 
mind thus constituted. A public speaker who ^los- 
sesses the configuration of head above referred to, 
never tires his audience by a dull, monotonous 
description, rendered more aggravating by a con- 
stant repetition of that which at first was void of 
all interest ; but he takes his audience along with 
him, and they unconsciously follow liim through 
lights and shadows, gravity and gaiety, ha^Dpiness 
and misery, elevation and depression, sympathy 
and aversion ; they drink in the very feelings of his 
soul, and experience the pleasure arising from men- 
tal sympathy, without always understanding the 
cause. 

Reverse the picture ; suppose the speaker' s 
head deficient in most of the organs referred to 
above, and of a lymi^hatic temperament, and the 
audience will either be lulled to sleep, or become so 
uneasy and uncomfortable from his prolixity and 



232 



want of meaning and energy, that they will be 
nnable to sleep or even sit quiet and endure the 
suffering of hearing him through. 

If phrenology was properly understood and 
aiDpreciated, i3eople's ears would not be pained by 
being obliged to listen to public speakers like the 
latter ; for a dictation of this inestimable science 
never would send out into the world those whom 
nature never designed should speak publicly, and 
from whom she had withheld every requisite quali- 
fication. The most casual observer must recognize 
a difference in the talents and dispositions of indi- 
viduals with whom they are conversant ; but a 
knowledge of phrenology is requisite to choose occu- 
pations or professions hest suited to those talents 
and dispositions. The ignorance of mankind has 
in all ages been a fruitful source of misery ; it has 
been, and is still the cause of the greatest evils 
which beset the paths of the present generation. 




PHRENO-MAGNETISM. 

By those who never have investigated Animal 
Magnetism, on which our ]3resent subject is based, 
it is hardly expected that our remarks will be appre- 
ciated ; but those who have witnessed the result of 
experiments in Animal Magnetism, and have become 
convinced of its truths, the phenomena presented by 
Phreno-Magnetism cannot fail to interest. In order 
to exx)lain this combination of sciences, we must 
give a brief exposition of what we conceive to be the 
magnetic, or nervous fluid. By this fluid we mean 
the principle of life, or nervous force, which is 
located in the nerves, and is thus distributed 
throughout the entire system. Dr. Spurzheim, in 
his Anatomy of the Brain, mentions that he con- 
ceives it to be not only possible, but extremely 
probable, that there is a nervous fluid originating in 
the ganglions, and circulating in the nerves. This 
theory has been proved by persons being resusci- 
tated from a state of asj^hyxia, by the application 
of animal magnetism ; tlius showing clearly that 
the nervous force is the princij)le which is first 
exhausted when dissolution occurs. 

Experiments also demonstrate this fact : tliat 
this nervous force can be directed by tlie will of the 
magnetizer to any given point, and that it can be 
233 



— 234 — 

received by tlie person magnetized, who is thereby 
placed in an unnatural state, which we term Mag- 
netic-Somnambulism. When this state is induced, 
if the phrenological organs are touched by the mag- 
netizer, the somnambulist readily manifests them, 
and that without any particular will being exercised 
by the magnetizer. We do not mean to say that all 
somnambulists are equally excitable ; it takes a 
much greater length of time to excite the organs on 
some heads than others. Peoi)le are not generally 
equally susceptible of excitement in a natural state, 
and this same difference exists when they are mag- 
netized. The phenonemon of x^ln'^iio-^^gii^tism 
can be thus exj^lained : there is a stimulus imparted 
to the organ which is excited by the touch of the 
magnetizer, and this stimulus causes an increased 
action, and this action is spontaneous, and not sus- 
ceptible of being controlled by the somnambulist. 
In other words, the organs which are excited are in 
a state of exalted activity, and the somnambulist 
has not the power to control their manifestation. 

We have had the opportunity to test the truth 
of phreno-magnetism on somnambulists who were 
uneducated^ consequently they coidd not have 
known the locality, or even iise^ of any of the organs 
of the brain ; and, that the experiment might be a 
fair test of the truth, we endeavored to disengage 



235 



our thoughts entirely from the subject, that the 
somnambulist might not feel the slightest influence 
of our will ; for where the magnetizer exercises his 
will on the somnambulist, for the purpose of caus- 
ing him to manifest an organ, we do not believe it 
to be a fair test of phreno-magnetism. A somnam- 
bulist, who has frequently had his organs excited, 
is more susceptible than one who has not ; and the 
organs on the same head which have been often 
excited, are most easily affected by phreno-mag- 
netism ; it is therefore requisite that all the organs 
(which it is x)roper to excite) should be excited 
equally on a somnambulist, by whom you wish to 
demonstrate the truth of phrenology by magnetism , 
otherwise you Mill find it extremely difficult to get 
the manifestation of those organs, which are located 
near those which you are in the constant habit of 
exciting. 

In order to practice phreno-magnetism success- 
fully, the x:)erson should be acquainted with both 
sciences. They should be acquainted with phreno- 
logy, that they may understand the precise locality 
of every organ of the brain ; they should understand 
the principles of animal magnetism, that they may 
know lioio and lolieii to apply it. It is dangerous 
for persons to attempt to practise phreno-magnetism 
who are ignorant of the nature of the agent which 



- 236 — 

they call into activity. For, although it is per- 
fectly safe ill judicious hands, yet it is a hazardous 
undertaking for those who are unacquainted with 
:;^^) its phenomena. Phreno-magnetism, strictly speak- 
^ ing, is momentary insanity, or, in other words, the 
'>7:^ somnambulist is insane in those organs which are 
excited during their manifestation, and it is there- 
fore requisite that great caution should be observed 
in exciting them ; violent pressure is not requisite, 
and should be carefully avoided i over-excitement 
should be strictly guarded against, as it is some- 
times attended with i)rejudicial effects, by produc- 
ing insanity which it has taken several weeks to 
remove. Cautiousness should be rarely excited, 
esx)ecially if it is much developed, as the organs 
which are operated upon become more active in a 
waking state. For this reason phreno-magnetism is 
of great utility, by enabling those who have organs 
that require cultivation, to improve much more 
rapidly than their activity in a natural state. This 
we have proved by actual experiment ; we magnet- 
ized a young lady some eighteen months since, and 
'7?4 excited tune ; her mother expressed much surprise 
at its manifestation, and stated that she never heard 
her sing before. We are aware that our remarks 
may elicit a smile from the incredulous, but the 
truth can neither be smiled nor frowned out of exist- 



231 



ence, and, being satisfied as regards the truth of 
both sciences, we submit our views to an intelli- 
gent j)ublic, and cheerfully await the result of its 
decision. 




■^:Si^Yc<5Y-.vf^ 



l^S^S^" 



^^mm 







m 




m 
II 



1^1 



EXTRACTS FROM A LECTURE ON 
PHRENOLOGY. 

When young, my mind was often impressed 
with a desire to understand its own mysteries. I 
often reflected upon the velocity of thought, and as 
often deprecated my total ignorance of the cause. 
Particularly when engaged in the study of Geo- 
graphy and Astronomy, I have watched with intense 
interest the lightning speed with which my mind 
was directed from continent to continent, grasping 
the rugged mountains, the boundless ocean, the 
volcano's burning entrails, the earthquake's con- 
vulsive throes, the cavern's dark wanderings, the 
desert's arid waste, the majestic liver, whose com- 
mencement is the simple mountain springs and 
purling brooks uniting their diminutive waters until 
by numerous additions the amplification is complete 
and its broad, deep bed rolls on to mingle with the 
mighty ocean ; the ruins which the convulsions of 
the elements, the devastation of war, or the iron 
hand of time had stript of their colossal beauty and 
antique grandeur contrasted with the life and ani- 
mation of the cities of Asia, Europe, and America ; 
and from the minutia of terrestial objects to the 
contemplation of the beauty, the order, the harmony 
with which the planetary worlds perform their revo- 
239 



— 240 — 

lutions around the sun, agreeable to the immutable 
laws which govern them, dictated by their Almighty 
Creator, 

Whence comes this inconceivable something 
which jjrompts not only to investigate the material 
universe, but seeks to solve the enigma of its own 
organization? Whence comes this originator of 
thought, this director of intellect, and through what 
medium does it act? were questions which arose 
spontaneously in my mind ; but all, all was enve- 
loped in mystery. The darkness of the pall hung 
over the promptings of my juvenile investigations 
and I despaired of ever ascertaining the functions 
of the mind, or the medium through which it is 
manifested. 

So ardent was my desire to become acquainted 
with the mysterious agency of the mind that, had I 
the power, I would have given worlds to have pos- 
sessed this knowledge. At length I obtained the 
works of Doctors Gall and Spurzheim, and I read 
them with intense interest, and was particularly im- 
pressed with the inductive principles which charac- 
terized their investigations. No vague theory of 
metaphysical sophistry spun by the wily mechan- 
ism of the imagination prompted their scientific 
researches. They reposed alone on the lap of 
nature, and by closely observing and comparing her 
works they were enabled to detect a tangible 



-241 — 



medium through whicli the internal qualities of 
mankind can be clearly and certainly determined 
by external developments. That candor which 
prompted the most rigid scrutiny in ascertaining 
the locality and appropriate use of the various 
organs of the brain and their peculiar adaptation 
shone no less conspicuous in those deep researches 
of inductive philosophy than in the forbearance, 
yet promptness, with which these champions of 
truth, those magnifiers of human intellect, met 
their adversaries. Charmed with the potency of 
that logic everywhere visible in the writings of Gall 
and Spurzheim, I soon became a convert to their 
doctrines. Having subsequently witnessed Phreno- 
logical examinations, I became confirmed in opin- 
ions (but then recently adopted) and commenced the 
study of Phrenology. 

After I had obtained an insight into this invalu- 
able science, I became deeply impressed with the 
importance of women in particular possessing the 
knowledge of mental philosophy. Oh, woman! 
thou art the fountain from which emanates a world 
of intelligences. No talents so rare, no genius so 
elevated, no intellect so refined, but what took its 
rise from thee. Thou art delegated by thy Creator 
with power to bless mankind by instilling into the 
minds of the rising generation, the principles of 
science, religion, morality, and virtue. From tliv 



242 



precei^ts and examples the infant mind is moulded 
and fashioned. How important, then, that thou art 
qualified for so responsible a station. How neces- 
sary that thy mind should be illuminated by the 
light of science and especially that of mental phi- 
losophy. A knowledge of Phrenology will enable 
you to judge not only the temperament, but the 
l^hysical and mental qualities of your children, and 
this will qualify you to select an occupation or pro- 
fession best suited to their dispositions and capaci- 
ties ; it will also enable the parent or teacher to 
arrest the predominant ascendency of an organ, if 
its excessive activity is injurious to the child; it 
also furnishes a just appreciation of all the faculties 
of mind and enables them to cultivate those but 
moderately developed, and restrain all the mental 
powers within the limits of conscientiousness, which 
sentiment is left free to act, untrammelled by 
sophistry and unfettered by a false system of educa- 
tion. For it is a fact worthy of remark that the 
noblest elements in the nature of man are capable 
of subversion if misdirected by false education. 
The internal monitor, or Conscieiitiousness, induces 
us to deal justly ; but, if this faculty is perverted, 
we should feel no remorse in j)ractices which other- 
wise would be abhorrent to our very thoughts. 

So with every otlier faculty of mind ; if 
directed by an enlightened understanding, each pro- 



-248 — 

X)eiisity and sentiment contributes to tlie exaltation 
of our happiness and the elevation of onr natures. 
It may be asked, where shall we go to become 
enlightened upon this subject? I answer, to that 
invaluable science of mental philosoiohy discovered 
by the illustrious Doctor Gall. Phrenology teaches 
that the mind is manifested through the medium of 
the brain. That the brain consists of a plurality of 
organs which are appropriated to the distinct facul- 
ties of mind. That the activity of those faculties 
depends njion the size of the organs and nx)on the 
temperament of the individual. It is useless to 
waste time in proving that the brain is the agent of 
the mind. This fact is admitted by many eminent 
l^hysiologists otherwise opposed to phrenology. If 
the brain be, then, the organ througli which the 
mind is manifested, is not its condition of the high- 
est importance ? How necessary the study of this 
mighty agent, this prime conductor of thought 
and intellect ! How beautiful, and yet how wonder- 
ful, is this mysterious combination of mind and 
matter. 

Some, who admit that the brain is the agent of 
the mind, yet deny that it consists of distinct 
organs, and maintain that it is an unit. If this 
were true, how could the phenomena of dreaming 
be explained ? If the brain Avere a single organ, 
then would all its faculties be asleep or awake 



— 244 — 

together, and dreaming would be impossible. 
Sometimes tlioaglits and memories are developed in 
sleep, which a lapse of years had i^laced far away in 
our waking state. The faculty which recognizes 
them springs into a state of voluntary activity, 
either from association or from its long state of 
dormancy. We may then have a vision of friends 
long since deceased, yet without that excitement 
which we should otherwise experience were not the 
feelings in a state of insensibility. Sometimes 
Cautiousness is awake and Hope (the balancing 
organ) asleep. Then are conjured up all fearful 
thoughts, — we are pursued by wild beasts ; harassed 
))y savage enemies ; tortured by hissing serpents ; 
and endangered by the f(:!arful commotion of the 
elements, until we reach the dire vortex of a whirl- 
pool or the giddy height of a j^recipice from whence 
we plunge headlong ; we start with horror and are 
awakened by an eilort to escajDe destruction. 

The increased activity of the different organs of 
the brain during mental exercise has been proved 
\>Y positive induction. A case is reported by Dr. 
Pierquin, which was observed by him, in one of the 
hospitals at Montpelier, in 1821. The subject was 
a female patient, part of whose skull had been 
removed. In dreamless sleej), the brain lay motion- 
less within the cranium. AVlien she was disturbed 
by dreams, it was agitated and protruded ; in dreams 



— 245 — 

reported by herself to have been vivid, it was more 
protruded, and still more so when awake and 
engaged in cheerful thoughts and sprightly con- 
versation. Similar cases have been reported by Sii 
Astley Cooper and Prof. Blumenback. Mr. George 
Combe, of Edinburgh, Scotland, in his course of 
lectures, states that he had examined an Indian 
whose head had been compressed, who notwith- 
standing appeared as intelligent as others of his 
tribe. I have never had the privilege of examining 
one of this tribe of Indians, but in my examination 
of the Anglo-Saxon race I have met with cases 
which induced me to believe that a change in the 
shape of the head, caused by arbitrary means, is 
detrimental to the action of the brain no further 
than it injures its organization or actually ruptures 
its parts. In examining a number of cases where 
the occiput had been flattened by the individual 
being laid on the back part of his head during the 
period of infancy, I have been able to give a correct 
statement of the size of Philoprogenitiveness and 
Concentrativeness. The most striking case was that 
of a gentleman from Ohio. He informed me that 
he had repeatedly submitted his head to the inspec- 
tion of eminent Phrenologists, but that its peculiar 
configuration led them invariably to pronounce him 
deficient in the above mentioned organs. In my 
examination I stated that tliose organs were well 



246 



developed, but that they were pushed from their 
original position by his being laid on the back part 
of the head during the period of infancy. He 
assured me that it was the first time that his head 
was ever examined satisfactorily in this respect. 
From these circumstances I am induced to think 
that the organs growing in a different direction does 
not prevent the manifestation of the mind. Many 
may think that this view of the subject militates 
against the truths of Phrenology. But if any other 
part of the system is comj^ressed, or the organs 
pushed from their natural place, or their original 
form altered, this does not annihilate the organ ; it 
merely changes its form, not its function. If the 
nose were disfigured, could we with the least pro- 
23riety call it the chin ? The fallacy of such logic is 
apx)arent to the weakest capacity. 

The question naturally arises in the minds of 
the uninitiated, What benefit will a knowledge of this 
science be to me? It will undoubtedly make me 
wiser, but shall I be happier, or will it add to my 
interest in its practical application to business? 
AVe answer in the affirmative. "Knowledge is 
power," it is wealth, it is riches as imperishable as 
mind itself. It is an internal mine containing gold 
more precious than Potosi's, and gems whose bril- 
liancy emanates from the immortal fountain of truth. 
Have we wealth ? The dark clouds of adverse for- 



247- 



tune, the perfidy of false friends, or the machina- 
tions of invidious foes may deprive us of its posses- 
sion. But knowledge constitutes a wealth which is 
imperishable and immortal ; it forms an atmosphere 
for the mind which exjjands its energies forever. 
But a knowledge of this science is of the utmost 
importance in every department of life. It is the 
knowledge of human nature based wpon scientific 
principles and it is attainable by all. It is a medium 
by which we are enabled to judge of mental capaci- 
ties, and apply its advantages in the every day 
business of life. In every department of govern- 
ment and in offices of public trust it will enable us 
to choose those who may with the strictest confi- 
dence be relied upon in point of mental and moral 
caj)acity. It will enable the teacher to determine 
the disposition and talents of his pupil and adapt 
his instructions accordingly. It will enable parents 
to train the moral sentiments of their children and 
select occupations or professions suitable to their 
talents or dispositions. In forming alliances which 
are to determine the happiness or misery of both 
parties for life, it is the talisman which will point 
out with undeviating accuracy all the foibles, as 
well as perfections, their x^eculiarity of disiDositions, 
partialities, and aversions, and prevent that dissimu- 
lation so often practised and which is usually 
attended with disappointment and regret. By it 



248- 



we can go back to the earliest ages of antiquity and 
see the nature of those faculties and the promptings 
of those minds whose mighty achievements swell 
the pages of history, but whose moving cause has 
ever been concealed amidst its ponderous archives. 
This science will elevate and expand all minds 
which receive its transcendent influence. It is a 
key by which we may unlock the hidden mysteries 
of human mind and explain what has ever been con- 
considered the greatest of all earthly enigmas, — the 
nature of man. 

It Avould seem very probable that Dr. Gall, 
after making a discovery so fraught with interest 
to mankind, would have received at least the 
applause of his countrymen. Far different was the 
effect produced. Instead of a reward for his invalu- 
able discoveries, he was persecuted. Malice with 
her thousand piercing fangs, fastened upon him. 
Falsehood, with her myriads of scorpion tongues 
charged with demoniac venom, assailed his reputa- 
tion. The denunciation of his sovereign was added 
to comjDlete the degradation with which they sought 
to ruin him. But amidst all these convulsions of 
human passions, this noble champion of mental 
freedom stood firm and unmoved amidst the con- 
flicting elements, declaring that ^Hliis is truth 
though at enmity with the j^hilosophy of ages." 
What though he was ridiculed and persecuted, and 



■^i^-^^m::^'^ 



— 249 — 

denominated charlatan and even scoundrel, and pro- 
hibited lecturing by the government of Austria^ 
His mighty genius, guided by the resistless i^hiloso- 
phy of truth and reason, braved the storms of 
adversity and opjDOsition, and stands towering above 
the dark waters of oblivion, a beacon whose light 
shall never be extinguished, a philosophic sun 
whose luminous rays shall cast their scintillations 
upon the minds of succeeding generations. 




/:^/<Z-'^-^^^^^j:SkJ'-'-^J^A-;^r^.'ST^ 




-^M^'^^iif^ifr^^^^^im^' 



ESSAYS. 



THINK FOR YOURSELF. 

If we give to others the use of our eyes and 
permit them to see for ns, we violate a law of our 
nature, and if we fall and are bruised we have no 
one to blame but ourselves. It is even so with our 
reason ; if we suffer the sun of our intellectual and 
moral world to be eclipsed by the little lurid taper 
of sectarianism, we have given up wilfully the light 
which God has made exclusively our own, for the 
murky emanations of prejudice which form a mist 
which is impenetrable, and a darkness that is visi- 
ble. This disposition in man to confide their think- 
ing apparatus to the keeping of those who pretend 
to think for him ; this listlessness, sloth, and 
apathy have been the means of enervating and nar- 
rowing the mind, and has kept the mass of man- 
kind from observing that the great Author of the 
^lniverse has made him a rational and intellectual 
being, and subjected him both mentally and physi- 
cally to the obedience of certain laws, which, if 
obeyed, are calculated to secure his happiness. 
251 



l^->"Ki/>''^-:-.'^ 



252 



The laws whicli govern him mentally are necessa- 
rily imj^osed on him for intellectual cultivation ; for 
although God has bestowed faculties which are 
cajjable of grasping and analyzing the natural 
world, of investigating the phenomena of his own 
being and external nature, yet this wonderful being 
is ushered into the world, of which he is to become 
the future arbiter, with less strength and know- 
ledge than the brute creation. The instinct which 
is an unerring guide to brutes is withheld from man, 
and he is to dej^end upon the cultivation and 
expansion of those materials for knowledge which 
his Creator has in infinite mercy given him. 

Action, the princij^le which controls, regulates, 
and governs all material substance, is necessary also 
to the accomplishment of mental culture ; and here 
again w^e see the infinite design of wisdom in extort- 
ing this action from all who would possess true 
knowledge ; each must depend upon the action of 
his own mind for the enlargement of its powers. 
This power is not transferable. One may accumulate 
wealth lor another, but knowledge never. I do not 
wish to be understood that we cannot aid and facili- 
tate the acquisition of knowledge ; this we certainly 
can do ; but after all the effort of obtaining it can 
be made by no other. Nothing valuable in life can 
be obtained without an effort. This is an universal 
rule and will apply to each and every case. And, 



'/yT^P^^ 



253 



if this was sufficiently and properly impressed upon 
the rising generation, we should see earlier and more 
earnest efforts made to possess themselves of know- 
ledge. If children were early taught the nature and 
penalty of the divine law, and that they were sure 
to suffer in proportion to their transgression, how 
vastly different would be the next generation. Or, 
if they were taught the attributes of God by the 
creed which He has written, instead of entangling 
and distorting their minds with man-made creeds, 
and warping it to suit the paradoxical and limited 
views of Deity therein contained, we should see the 
human mind arise untrammelled by sophistry and 
unscathed by the blighting mildew of misanthropy. 
I know that most persons think our religious 
characters are formed after we arrive at maturity ; 
but the seeds are sown when we are young and they 
grow with our growth and strengthen with our 
strength until they become assimilated to our very 
existence ; and if these views are erroneous, if we 
have early been taught that God was a selfish, jeal- 
ous, angry being, we not only find it impossible to 
love Him as we ought, but (no matter how much we 
may endeavor to conceal the fact from ourselves 
and others) we associate him with olijects that are 
disagreeable, and rather tremble with slavish fear, 
than feel awed and attracted by his mercy and lov- 
ing kindness. It is impossible for us to love a dis- 



254 



agreeable object, and we can no more love Diety 
than objects of less magnitude when represented as 
revengeful and rei3ulsive. And those who represent 
the Eternal, Invisible Author of our being in that 
manner should be j)itied for their ignorance and 
weakness, and immediately tauglit the impropriety 
of their course ; and above all they should never 
throw their deleterious instructions to poison the 
pure fountain of nature which flows in the innocent 
freshness of childhood. The j^owers of perception 
and imitation in children are developed long before 
their reasoning faculties, consequently those who 
have the charge of children cannot be too careful 
what impressions are made upon their minds. A 
child' s confidence is boundless, and he will believe 
in things which he cannot give the slightest reason 
for believing. Error sown upon the susceptible soil 
of childhood poisons the pure fountain of truth and 
brings on a long catalogue of suffering, which shows 
too plainly that the minds of children had better be 
left a perfect blank than defaced by the foul blots 
of error. Never can it be forgotten that, while yet 
a small child, I had been indoctrinated with all the 
jieculiar dogmas of the church, some of which were 
"original sin,"' "'infant damnation,''' "endless mis- 
ery," "'total depravity," etc. 

I had often been abjured by x^ious and sincere 
Christians that I committed sin enough every 



255 



breath I drew to damn my soul to all eternity. I 
sincerely regretted that I could not live without 
breathing, not even doubting the truth of what 
they affirmed. This idea of endless future misery 
(although not more than six years of age) was the 
bane of my life, the canker which corroded deei)ly 
into my spirits, and at times drank up their energies. 
If I sought, by my childish sports, to drive away this 
ceaseless torment, it would ever come back in their 
midst with such potency as to cast a cloud over my 
mind. But when "twilight let her curtain down 
and pinned it with a star," when my head was laid 
on my pillow, all the forms of damned spirits came 
clustering before me, and I could distinctly trace in 
the lineaments of their features that they were 
apiDointed to deal out to me my future cup of 
misery. I was afraid to walk out after dark for 
fear the earth would open and swallow me up, for I 
had not only breathed all day, but ever since I was 
born, and the awful thought struck my horrified 
senses in all its terror, that consequently I had 
merited more punishment than the wasteless ages 
could bestow. I never closed my eyes without 
repeating every prayer I had learned, but this did 
not prevent the frequent recurrence of these awful 
thoughts from disturbing my slumbers. 

This state of things continued with me with 
greater or less intensity until I was eighteen years 



— 256 — 

of age. Our family was visited with sickness, my 
own life was despaired of, — this caused me to look 
into the attributes of God, the plan of his govern- 
ment, the promises contained in the scriptures, etc., 
and I came directly to this conclusion: that God 
had a design in creating man upon the earth ; that 
that design was founded in wisdom dictated by 
goodness, and would be executed by Almighty 
power ; that this, and this only, was compatible 
with the attributes of God, and would accord with 
that benevolence which "sendeth the rain upon the 
just and the unjust and causeth his sun to rise on 
the evil and the good." Immediately there was a 
peace, a calm resignation, and confidence to which I 
had before been a stranger. That confidence has 
never forsaken me. From that time I have believed 
for myself, I have thought for myself, and I have 
felt a perfect peace in so doing. 



GOD'S LOVE. 

Oh! holy, beauteous love,— ineffable, transcend- 
ent, and sublime. God's wonderful magnet that 
forms and moves all worlds in the vast Univercoelum 
through their orbits of celestial space on the spiral 
round of ^^rogress, infilling all their miglitv changes 



257 



with the holy light of beauty, pervading and 
increasing all atoms until their lofty heights pierce 
the sky, and vapory, lieecy clouds rest on the brow 
of the mountain in pearly magnificence and 
grandeur. 

The brooding beauty of the stately trees, tower- 
ing heavenward, yet spreading their sympathetic 
arms over all that seek the shelter of their friendly 
shade. All nature — sweet nature — bursts forth in 
bloom ; fragrant flowers charm the sense and elevate 
the mind ; the tnnef ul birds sing to their young in 
leafy bowers, trill their wild carols and revel in the 
very soul of music which vibrates o'er the echoing 
rocks and rivers, amid the smiling valleys, carpeted 
with vernal meadows and undulating golden grain, 
— its joy-bent sheaves feel the divinest pulse of love, 
and bow in wavy smiles towards all its glad sur- 
roundings. 

The ocean's ceaseless voice i3roclaims the rich- 
ness of its melody in anthems of responsive joy to 
the glad spirit that lifts its murmuring waves, 
diamond crested, forever reaching after God. 

Oh, human soul ! divinest element of spirit 
encased in dust ! Thou shalt wear away thy dark 
surroundings and come forth in rosy light, to live, 
to love, to make all beautiful thy life, — all joyous 
the hearts that still linger in dust-bound ignorance. 
Their time too shall come to leave the darkness, to 



258 



soar aloft, cleansed by the mighty power of love 
and light, and to Avouder why we desire to tarry 
long amid the shadows of material existence. 



GOODNESS. 

The brightest and most beautiful star of life is 
goodness. It contains a merciful justice, a love and 
tender sympathy for all humanity, a most sacred 
regard for the purity of life, which is illuminated 
by the sunlight of truth. 

To be thoroughly good is to unfold our spiritual 
treasures here. We light our pathway of life by 
wearing the star of goodness shining on our fore- 
heads. It is more charming and beautiful than all 
the world calls great, — which are the evanescent 
pleasures of wealth, fame, and high position. A 
day — an hour — may sweep these from our grasp, 
while goodness, being a spark of divinity, Lives on 
forever. 



-^■^^c^^^"^ 



^^jMm:mrm^im<^^mvm^:^5rmm 



EXTRACTS FROM DIARIES. 



DECEMBER 31, 1861. 

This day closes a year whicli shall be written 
in characters of blood and iire in the World's His- 
tory. A year of crisis, of war, treason, reckless 
cruelty, selfishness, and lust of power by the trait- 
ors of our country. A year in which thousands of 
brave hearts have poured out their life-blood as a 
libation to LIBERTY on American soil,— that 
blood so freely offered has been shed by the hands 
of those who should be brothers. But, alas! for 
truth, for justice, for God and the right ; the dark 
curtain of error has spread her sable j)all over all 
we hold sacred. Oh ! May that ]3all be removed 
by the thousands of patriotic hearts and hands that 
have espoused the cause of our Nation' s honor. 

God of the right ! Oh ! Grant that this gov- 
ernment which Thy blessing secured to our dear, 
suffering, patriotic forefathers may pass through 
this fiery furnace of rebellion like gold fully tried, 
and be separated from the dross which the unprece- 
dented prosperity of this Nation has accumulated 
259 






260- 



(all unconsciously) on the surface of our God-given, 
governmental institutions. 

God of the right ! Oh ! How earnestly we look 
to Thee, praying that the brightness of thy coun- 
tenance may once more shine upon our unhappy 
country. Oh ! Lift us from the dust into which we 
have fallen. Cause the w^hite-winged angel of Peace 
to once again wave her magical pinions over our 
dear land of America. 

Oh ! our Father, hear us ! Hear this, our hum- 
ble petition. May each patriotic heart that goes 
forth to battle against the foes of our country, beat 
strong for the right ! May each noble spirit that 
wields the weapons to suppress rebellion feel that, 
to die in the cause of Freedom, is to die gloriously ; 
to be a martyr of truth here, is to wear a crown of 
glory THERE. 

Oh! world of Spirits, when you gather our 
sacrificial lambs together on that ujjper shore of 
Eternity, a halo of light must fall from heaven like 
a celestial tear-drop shed for peace and liberty. 

Oh! Change the stubborn heart of wrong to 
rioht. Lift from their minds the darkness of 

o 

rebellion : make them see Thy ways are the ways of 
truth and righteousness and lead u]iward to the 
Promised Land. 



FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 15. 

Twenty years today my dear mother was re- 
leased from tlie earth form and ascended to the 
real, the immortal life, and the desolation that I felt 
at parting can never be described. Had I known 
then that I should have remained here so long, how 
hopeless would have been the outlook for the future. 
My own, own dear mother. Oh ! Come in dreams 
or impressions and let me know and feel that it is 
indeed YOU. Oh ! I would give worlds if I pos- 
sessed them to see you now in your Spirit home ; to 
know the manner of your living; your capacities 
for improvement, and see the beautiful flowers that 
deck your gardens. How much more patiently 
could I wait here in the darkness, wondering how 
the light will look when I am permitted to see it. 

My own sweet mother ! Of all the world you 
knew and loved me best. The sparkling, golden 
fire which illumined my tiny existence was taken 
from the eternal altar of Grod by you and conse- 
crated with many prayers and with a love which 
time nor death can obliterate nor destroy. 

It shall grow brighter and deeper, broader and 
more boundless, until it overleaps the boundaries of 
time and places me by your side on the upper shores 
of a ])eautiful and immortal existence. 
261 



262 



How grand and awe-inspiring it is to feel tliat 
we are immortal ! That God shines in the stars, — 
in the sunlight and in the soul-light of every beam- 
ing eye. 



DECEMBER 25. 

How gladly this morn is ushered in by every 
Christian heart. The star of Bethlehem rested on 
the moral horizon of the world and just became 
visible on this auspicious morning. How it shone 
in the dark ages, gilding the very clouds which 
burst over the head of our dear Lord and Saviour. 
They crucified him, — slew the body, — but his 
beautiful soul triumphed over death, and from that 
time to the present He has been leading mankind in 
the paths of duty and righteousness. 

I^e has taught them that "God is love," and 
tried to impress them with the beauty, justice, and 
holiness of the Golden Rule. 

Yes ! Jesus has triumphed, and through the 
vista of unbroken centuries the light that was first 
kindled in Bethlehem shines brighter and brighter, 
and its rays permeate the darkest places, and divine 
light and love reach forth to comfort the desolate, 
sorrowing children of Earth. 



263 



Oil ! What a lesson Christ has given to sinful, 
selfish man ! What humility ! What love. 

Grant, blessed Mediator, that Thy spirit may 
ever illumine my darkened mind ; that all selfish- 
ness may be banished from my heart ; that all 
resentful feelings may be driven from my memory. 

Let naught but a heavenly light shed its peace- 
ful rays on my soul. Let naught but a heavenly 
love flow forth from the fountains of my heart. 
Make me to walk in the path Thou hast marked out 
for us here below, — and, in that great hereafter, 
may we be gathered like laml)S to thy fold, and 
dwell forever in thy blessed presence. 



There is a richness of melody and a refinement 
of harmony in the voice of Nature, as she sweetly 
speaks to us through the elements, that hushes 
every repining thought and lifts tired mortals into 
the sphere of inspiration where they can rest from 
the many cares and trials of life. 

It teaches us to reach out beyond the present, 
and to recognize the great Positive Mind who is 
Our Creator. We can see His wisdom and His love 
through all the gradations of nature, from the 
smallest grain of sand up to the myriads of burn- 



264 



ing worlds that whirl throughout this vast Unl- 
vercoelum, — all emanating from Him, and, like 
ourselves, indestructible and immortal. What a 
glorious hope, to be able to reach higher and higher 
until we attain beauty, power, intelligence, wisdom, 
truth, and love in their x^nrest and divinest forms. 

This life is but the seeding time for eternity, 
and at its longest counts scarce a moment in that 
world where time shall be no more. It is not 
strange, tlien, that it takes the everlasting ages to 
develop the soul so largely, to expand it with the 
knowledge of the sublime mysteries of the ever- 
acting and varying forces of nature, and make it 
feel that it is truly the offspring of God. 



JULY 4. 

This is the morning of the Glorious Fourth, and 
all is life and animation to celebrate this anniversary 
of our independence. What 2>i(*f^ii'^s of the past 
this eventful day calls to mind. How it brings 
back those noble spirits that were assembled in the 
old State House in Philadelphia, — fired by a sense 
of duty and patriotism, fully aware of their danger, 
but stanch and firm for the right. Their brave 
countenances, compressed lips, and fiashing eyes 



265 



telling how fearlessly they would stand or fall for 
their country' s freedom. 

The God of battles and the God of right i^ros- 
pered our cause and gave us this land of x'romise, — 
our own America. After long years of suffering 
every kind of hardship and privation that could 
come to our i30or, patient, brave, and persevering 
army, we were declared a free nation. 

How every American bosom should swell with 
patriotic pride. How every thought should ascend 
to the God of Nations, thanking him this morning 
for the iirivilege of enjoying such a government. 
These many years we have proved to other nations 
of the globe that our form of government is capable 
of dispensing the blessings of liberty and plent}" 
without the aid of monarchy. 

We should indeed feel grateful for the land 
that our forefathers won through the cost of so 
much blood, through the shedding of so many tears. 
Oh ! how dear but how nobly won. Let us never 
forget that our liberty was bought by suffering and 
death, and let us cherish it for what it cost, and for 
what it bequeaths. 



"Truth is mighty and must prevail"; it forces 
its way witli the fire and precision of the morning 
sunbeam. Vapors may im^^ede the infancy of its 
Xn'ogress, but the very resistance that wouki clieck 
only condenses and concentrates it, until at length 
it goes forth in the fulness of its meridian, — all life, 
light, and lustre, — the minutest objects visible in 
its refulgence. 

All improvements in literature, science, or phi- 
losophy have been met by the skeptical, and bit- 
terly opposed. All new truths have been received 
with a fear that their very existence would i3rove 
detrimental to the interests of society. Mankind 
has been so blinded by ignorance and their minds so 
warped by i3rejudice that they have sought to anni- 
hilate many new truths by opposition and ridicule, 
and many times by j)ersecution. 

Truth is an immutable i)rinciple, — the corner 
stone of the great fabric of creation upon which the 
Architect of the universe has set the majesty of His 
power, and the sure signet of His wisdom. 

Sooner shall the great diadem of starlit worlds 
be wrested from the brow of the Omnipotent than 
truth be annihilated. 



266 



What a strange and mysterious variety do we 
find enshrined in the caslvet of memory. We see 
there the iDure diamonds of lovable intelligence, the 
bright genius of poetry, the warm gush of affection, 
the gay scenes of festive mirth, the convivial board 
of social enjoyment. 

The holy hour of devotion, the organ's solemn 
tones, the church bells' warning chimes, the choir 
of voices raised in celestial harmony. The days of 
childish sx^ort, when every flower was worshipj^ed 
by the buoyant spirit, and every word was received 
as an emblem of truth, — a confidence written by 
heaven's own sunlight on the fair brow of innocence. 

The enthusiasm which characterized the most 
commonplace incidents, the raptures with which 
the gurgling brook jDrattled to our thoughts, the 
pity which filled the eyes with heaven's own pearls 
for tlie woes of others, — the love which gushed 
from the full heart for ALL. 

All, all are carried through life on the wings of 
Memory. Let the incidents be ever so numerous, 
memory seizes upon them all and carries them, — 
the good and the bad, the beautiful and the 
deformed, the pleasurable and the painful, — all are 
borne along by memory to the very close of life ; 
and so mysterious are its powers that the impres- 
sions of childhood float on its surface brightly even 
when life's sun is nearing the horizon of death. 



AUGUST 31. 

The anniversary of my birth always brings back 
the days of my infancy, childhood, youth, and 
womanhood, — all the incidents which contain so 
much up to the jn'esent time ; retrospection unfolds 
it in all its various colors, present circumstances 
and incidents so strangely different from each other 
that it almost seems impossible they could be 
embraced in one i3erson's exjDerience. 

Yet so it is ; we are ushered into the world 
unconscious of what is to be our doom or destiny ; 
it is only unfolded by degrees, as we are callable of 
bearing it. Novelty is an ingredient of the mind 
that would render us miserable if not satisfied, and, 
if a knowledge of every incident which is to form 
our future lives could be given us at once, it would 
dei)rive us of that one great stimulus which now 
gilds our future. 

Today I can see the ealm, blue eyes of my 
mother resting upon me in love, and hear the sweet 
nmsic of her voice, — memories which no time can 
destroy, for they are immortal. I can see the stern 
features of my father occasionally relax into a smile, 
as he watched our childish sports upon the green, 
which was almost encircled by a swiftly gurgling- 
brook. Shall I ever forget the music of those 
waters, — that serenade from ufiture which nightly 
268 



— 269 — 

soothed my senses to repose like some sweet guar- 
dian angel bringing my eyelids down to dream of 
happiness and heaven ? 

My brothers and sisters around me in loving 
companionship brought so much enjoyment to our 
rural home, so bright with its many comforts, and 
so removed from the cares and bustle of the outside 
world. 

Oh, my dear, dear parents! Since you have 
been called to the Summerland, and I have been 
left without your guiding counsels, I can better 
realize your protecting love and your many cares. 
How I thank you for the sure foundation you 
builded in my mind upon which to rest the great 
principles of life. How you taught me to control 
selfishness and to cultivate benevolence and charity. 

Since I have faced the great problems of life for 
myself, I meet many that are ignorant of such 
XU'actical but exalted teachings. 

If our souls ascend often to the great Fountain 
of love and intelligence, they must become illumi- 
nated to a certain extent with truth, and where can 
we find truth better than to seek it where it dwells 
in all purity untrammelled by the dogmas of man 
and imadulterated by bigotry and superstition. 

Is it better to dig up the musty tomes of the 
ancients and decide what is truth, by their blind 
philosophy, or to climb up to its pure and lofty 



270 



fountain head by the ladder of f aitli, which if placed 
aright is sure to bear us uj^ward to the Great 
Author and Founder of the Vast Univercoelum and 
all its myriads of shining worlds ? 

How little do the majority of praying j)eox)le 
understand the nature of prayer ! Some of them 
think to change the plan of God thro' the order of 
nature. If our darkened minds ascend to God they 
are strengthened, and then, if they become concen- 
'jf^ trated upon the object of their prayer, they are 
benefited without any other phenomena than the 
fulfilment of an immutable law of God. 

May it be my effort in life to reach that state of 
spiritual perfection which shall secure to me an 
unclouded faith, x^erfect in its entirety, endless in 
its strength, reaching from earth to heaven ! 



:'W^. 



There is an universal and eternal activity through- 
out the vast regions of space. Every particle of 
matter is constantly passing through varying forms, 
orders, and degrees, evolving into something higher. 
This is an universal law which always has existed 
and always will exist. The wise philosopher has 
remarked that ' ' understanding one thing in all its 



^mLm^^fi^^^^^mimi ^^sm^MM^^^^m^m 




271 



bearings would take in all other things in the Uni- 
verse. ' ' 

How inconceivably great and wonderful it is to 
follow down the ages of progression and go back 
into the chaotic abyss of unfinished worlds, — or to 
trace them upward to the solar system and view all 
the marvellous mechanism of heaven. It teaches 
us that the stars which give us light and so much 
jDleasure and which encircle the great dome like 
clusters of brilliants in the transcendent diadem of 
all-creating-wisdom, are worlds in different grades 
of jDrogression. Yet how difficult to grasj) the idea 
in its immensity, or to imagine the sublimity and 
grandeur of unknown and unlimited space filled 
with worlds upon worlds. 

The laws of progression are written on the 
pages of nature with unmistakable j)recision,— 
whether we go back to the first atom which ema- 
nated from the sun — to form the most ancient pla- 
net in our system — or to the first vegetation that 
adorned its surface. By what incomprehensible 
agency was matter first put in motion? Shall we 
call it the blind result of chance 'I Shall we say 
that it is the uncertain affinities and condensation of 
atoms moving without cause, directed without pur- 
pose, and liable at any moment to terminate in chaos 
or oblivion "i 

No. Wlierever we turn our investio-ations we 



272 



behold a demonstration of intelligence accompany- 
ing every particle of matter from the most crude to 
the most perfect. We can look upon the fair 
pages of nature and read in characters made legible 
hj divine perfection, the Omniscient Intelligence as 
its great Author, 



And while oblivion wraps the outward senses 
the inmost shrine is deserted. Its god-like essence, 
— its magnet jjower of good is attracted upward. 



(Written at school at the age of nine years. 
There were several more verses which are forgotten, 
as they were written on a slate. An elder sister 
i-ecollected and copied this at the time.) 

In six days (to Him be praise), 

God made the whole creation. 
The earth, the air, and all things fair, — 

Made Man for his salvation, — 
The sun to shine with light divine, — 

The moon to walk nocturnal, 
Nor made in vain the starry train 

To OTow with briaditness vernal. 



■'^!^v.^1'73^^^^<'^;?-'r 



AUGUST 31. 

]\[y birthday once more. How rapidly I am 
going nx^ the steeps of time, and I thank our 
Pleavenly Father that the way for my feet to tread 
is so free from thorns, so pleasant in all its paths, 
and that my cliildren are preserved to me in the 
form, and most of them are living near me where 
I can see them nearly every day. Oil ! how dear 
they are to me, and every added year makes them 
dearer. 

How tliis day brings back the scenes and 
friends of long ago. I can see the cottage where I 
was born. I can feel what a new Avonder I was to 
my gentle mother and how glad she was to have 
another girl. I can hear the murmuring of the brook 
that tumbled its bright waters so closely to our door. 
I can see its shining, pebbly bottom. Oh ! how 
soothing was its sw^eet music to my infant ears, — 
how it rij)pled and sung its own merry tunes. 

I find in the golden halls of my memory many 
apartments : the first one contains the crowning 
glory and joy of my young life, — my sweet, smil- 
ing, blue-eyed mother, her soft brown hair rolled 
back from her broad, expansive forehead, a thought- 
ful but cheerful expression of countenance, always 
sensible, yet social, and, though shining in the social 
273 



274 



circle she was so well fitted to adorn, yet, wliere 
there was illness and suffering, there she was to be 
found, in the clianibers of the sick, in the hovels of 
the poor, ])y the bedside of the dying, her voice com- 
forted, her soul-beaming countenance lighted the 
dark places, her faith rose like a star of glory for sad 
eyes to gaze nj^on, for sad hearts to hojie npon. She 
felt it to be not only her dutj', l)ut made it her haj)- 
piness to smooth the way for the nnfortnnate and 
sorrowing. Her passage from death to eternal life 
was lighted by the blessings of the many she had 
Idessed Truly, "none knew her but to love her, 
none named her but to praise.'' 

My father, grave, dignified, cpiiet, almost dis- 
tant in his nature, tlie soul of honor, loving his 
family with a deep and abiding love, but unable to 
demonstrate his affection in the fond caresses that 
were bestowed so freely l)y my mother. He was a 
large, fine-looking man, Avith dark hair, and eyes of 
so deep a blue they were often mistaken for black. 
His peculiar smile lighted up his countenance, 
making it radiant at times. He was not naturally 
social, but when he did unbend and join the merry 
throng, none could be more gracious and fascinating. 

My brothers and my sisters, my school mates 
and my friends are not forgotten. Their jiictures 
hang in the hall of my memory and their many dear 
and lovable traits are still bright after the lapse of 



all these years. Most of them have crossed the 
border land of mortal life and passed to the spirit 
realms. Soon I shall reach the summit of my 
appointed years and join them. Oh ! may the first 
one that greets me on that bright shore be my own, 
loved, angel-mother. 



JANUARY 1, 1863. 

Welcome, thou newly born child of time. Born 
amidst the conflicting elements of national troubles, 
the booming cannon, the clash of arms, the red 
clouds of war, spread so threateningly over our once 
peaceful and happy America. Thine egress here, 
which thou art i)rinting on our national history, 
shall tell thy story to unborn millions, shall tell 
our struggles for the right, shall tell how patriot 
hearts freely poured out the crimson life current 
and sealed their devotion to liberty with their 
blood. 

Shall tell how traitors, fired by a demoniacal 
thirst for jiower, trampled our flag in the dust, mur- 
dered our husbands, fathers, sons, and lovers, 
because of their love for the Union, have sought 
with sacrilegious hands to tear the heart from 
liberty, and establisli disunion and disruption. 



276 



Oh ! thou God of right ! Bjq^tize our new born 
year with the emanations of thy righteousness. 
Place on his infant brow the germs of hope, love, 
liberty, and truth, guard him with thy high power. 

Let it not be in vain tliat Ave implore tliy help, 
thy protection, thy care in this our hour of peril. 
Xow is a time of sorrow and mourning, our glad 
songs of liberty are hushed, and our nation s harx> 
hangs mournfully, all nnswept, npon the willow 
whose roots are washed by the mad waters of 
anarchy and rebellion. 

Oh ! Father, we pray thee, harmonize with thy 
love and wisdom the conflicting elements which are 
now red with some of the bravest hearts' -blood of 
our nation. May the leading enemies of oui' 
country meet the reward due to traitors, and may 
the masses who ignorantly follow them be converted 
to the beauty and truth of noble patriotism. Make 
them see their errors and to realize the great wrongs 
thev are trying to inflict npon the best government 
that the sun ever rose n]3on. 

Oh ! infant year ! Before thou hast grown old, 
may we rejoice where now we sorrow, may we bask 
in light where we now grope in darkness. May the 
smoke of the battle be cleared from our land and 
the sunlight of peace rest on our homes, our flelds, 
and forests. May the martial tread of our brave 
soldiers be relaxed and replaced by the ordinary 



27^ 



pursuits of peaceful life. May the pall of despair 
he melted away ly the sunlight of hope. May the 
tears of our widows aud orphans be dried by peace- 
ful breezes, may we rest in our homes feeling secure 
from invasion and from Avar's friglitful menace. 

Oh ! infant year ! Ere thou hast reached matu- 
rity drop upon us the olive branch of peace and let 
it cover the graves of apprehension and tyranny. 



This morning finds me in a pretty country vil- 
lage, where there is every appearance of comfort 
and thrift. The white cottages shaded by tall elms, 
maples, beeches, and evergreens, and surrounded by 
large Avell-kept gardens filled with nearly every 
kind of bloom, make a pleasing picture for the eye 
to rest upon. The streets are straight, at right 
angles, and are shaded by continuous rows of trees 
on either side, so tall and large that the branches 
almost touch overhead, thus making a continuous 
bower. A most inviting spot. I arose early and 
started for a walk. A clmrch spire some few blocks 
distant attracted me, and I turned my steps in that 
direction. 1 soon reached the church and walked 
beyond it into the churchyard, — the burial i^lace 
for tlie dead . But what a contrast to the lovely lit- 



'.j:^.'^;:^^^-^' 



278 • 



tit? hamlet, — a field bare and desolate, unkept, 
iincared-for, and permitted to be overgrown with 
weeds ; the grave stones displaced, some leaning 
and some broken. No trees, and but few flowers, 
whose sickly growth told of utter lack of care. 
What food for thought. We love our living, why 
cannot we remember our dead. Is it not an indica- 
tion of refinement to see well-cared-for cemeteries, 
and do we not often judge of the citizens by the 
appearance of the town's burial place? 

It is certainly appropriate that cemeteries 
should be ornamented with shrubbery and flowers. 
They are the receptacles, the flnal resting-place of 
the mortal remains of those whose presence cheered 
us, and whose memories are dear to surviving 
friends, and, where there is nothing but the cold, 
marble slab to tell the birth and death of an individ- 
ual, it argues a want of refinement if not of affection 
in those who survive and who have the power to 
plant the evergreen, — jjointing us to immortality, — 
the rose, seringa, and myrtle as tokens of truthful 
love and undying remembrance. 

I gazed on this desolate scene and thought of 
those the destroyer had garnered here, — some in 
age, in manhood, in youth and infancy ; the poor, 
the rich, the high, the low, — all embraced in the 
same profound slumber, all resting quietly, freed 
from the cares and turmoil of life, some who lad 



— 279 — 

lingered long, struggling witli disease, others 
snatched suddenly from the midst of life's enjoy- 
ment. 

How forcibly it reminds us of the uncertainty 
of life and the vanity of worldly pursuits. The iron 
hand of Time has marked all the living for the same 
narrow chamber. Our grant of life contains our 
death warrant, which shall be executed in a longer 
or shorter period of time, according to the will and 
pleasure of an Allwise Creator. 

Oh ! my Father, give ns the faith to lift the 
veil which obscures the future. Let us look beyond 
the shadows of the grave and behold the spirit that 
is born into the sphere of immortal joy and blessed- 
ness. Make us to understand that we are but 
standing on the threshold of Eternal life, and, 
when our time conies to step through the open door, 
we shall be ushered into a world of peace, reunion, 
and love. 



-i^mi^^ 



AUGUST bl. 

Forty years have come and gone, and I have 
learned enough of life's great lesson to know that 
all its happiness connected merely with the things 
of earth is overrated by the world in general. Like 
the unfledged bird we need them to subsist upon 
until our spirit wings have grown to lift us from the 
earth to heaven. 

Yet there are those who cannot believe them- 
selves to be immortal, but bend all their energies 
of soul and body to the accumulation of the riches 
of this world. How small it will all seem to them 
when they are called to lay this body down forever. 

Yes ! Why not forever ? Who can believe 
this form, this casket of clay shall be raised to 
celestial spheres'^ We took it from the broad 
bosom of our generous mother earth and to her it 
must be returned,— and through her again all that 
is mortal shall mingle with the bright green grass, 
the verdant trees, and lovely flowers. 

The soul most truly is "sown in the natural 
body," but in that bright home beyond the skies we 
shall wear our new spiritual body, very similar (it 
may be) to the natural body we give back to earth, 
— only stripped of all its defects and beautified 
with the radiance and brilliance of God's holy light. 
280 



Great Eternal Fountain of Love and Wisdom, 
Sonrce of all Spirits ! Father of all minds ! grant, 
we pray Thee, an unfolding of our natures and 
make us more truly sensible of our relationship to 
Thee and of the certainty of our immortal destiny. 

Give us the understanding of thy love. Let us 
feel that wisdom, trutli, purity, and universal cha- 
rity will be retained Avhen Ave are born into the 
spirit si^heres. 

Enable us to efface the errors of our lives and 
the perversions of thy rich blessings by acts of 
charity and love. Enable us to do our duty regard- 
less of the scoffers of the Avorld. Make us examples 
of truth and rectitude, and may each day that 
passes bring us one step nearer Thy standard of 
perfection. 

Oh ! my Father in heaven, I thank Thee for my 
children. I thank Thee for the bestowment of such 
immortal gems. Give me the light to guide them 
to Thee. May they learn that true happiness con- 
sists in obeying Thy laws and in doing Thy Avork in 
the world. Enable them to forgive as Thou for- 
o-ivest Give them Avisdom and understanding that 

o 

they may apiareciate the real immortal life. 

Give them submission to Thy will. Give then; 
the poAver to do right. Make them to live the 
Golden Rule. Teach them to Avalk peacefully and 

281 



^'^ 



— 282 — 

humbly in the paths that Thou wouklst have them 
tread. Bless them with health, and such worldly 
prosperity as is good for them, and bring them to 
that "Peace which passeth all understanding." I 
beseech Thee to grant this earnest prayer. 

Amen. 










TOBACCO. 

The real deleterious nature of tobacco is not 
generally known by its consumers. The majority 
of those using it began doing so while they were 
children, and i^robably unknown to their parents 
and guardians. The ambitious heart of "Young- 
America" is fired with an intense longing to leaji 
across the chasm of years that separates boyhood 
from manhood, and revel in w^hat seems to their 
juvenile eyes the luxuries that belong to the years 
when man attains his majority. So the wide- 
spread use of tobacco — like many other evils — 
grows alarmingly by example. Examples from 
those whose influence is the strongest and most 
powerful in the land. The statesman, the military 
hero, the preacher, the layman, temj^erance lecturer, 
and many of the reformers who pass their wdiole 
lives fighting Wrong, and trying to set Right on a 
sure foundation, smoke and use tobacco. 

Young eyes gaze on the luxurious ease which 

seems to surround them, as with paper in hand they 

sit and puff the curling smoke from tlieir lips and 

enjoy their newspaper. Young eyes watch with 

283 



284 



interest the ojyen cigar case passed among a party 
of friends and note the feeling of sociability it 
brings forth. Young eyes count in the after-meal 
cigars ; the evening cigar ; the cigar to walk on ; 
the cigar to ride on ; the cigar to quiet nerves ; 
the cigar to keep down llesh, and the cigars for the 
thousand other excuses man makes for iising them ; 
and is it strange those young eyes should admire 
and try to emulate their example i 

Smoking may not be a crime in the true defini- 
tion of the word, but it certainly is a vice ; and 
what right has a man to set himself up as an exam- 
ple for old and young to follow, if he constantly 
practises a vice ? 

The smoking preacher, teacher, and the re- 
former, as well as many influential men holding high 
X^laces in our land, are all supposed to be such bright 
characters that walking in their footstej^s would 
reflect credit on us ; and yet their example helps to 
corrupt our youth, poison our atmosphere, and 
spread disease abroad in the land, to say nothing of 
the food that it takes out of the mouths of the 
wives and little ones of many men too poor to 
furnisli their families Avitli the necessaries of life, 
yet still find money to keep themselves under the 
infiuence of tobacco. 

But supposing that tobacco was as free as the 
air ; that it cost nothing, and did not poison the 



— 280 — 

atmosi:>liere and render many non-smoking men (to 
say nothing of women) sick from its vile smells ; 
supjiose it liad none of these outside effects ; even 
then it is a curse and a blight on those using it. 
Every year it adds as many graves to our cemeteries 
as some of our most contagions diseases, but so 
insidiously, so quietly does it work its deadly way 
that its power is not generally recognized. 

Each smoker flatters himself that he is irdr- 
ticularly favored by being exempt from nicotine 
poison. He acknowledges that it 'ina?/ harm some 
of his smoking friends, but, as for himself, — oh! 
indeed he must be proof against it. Are not his 
lungs good 'I His stomach strong ? His heart 
j)owerful, and nerves altogether too steady, to be 
affected by smoking 'I Of course he has been told 
that its continued use seriously affects the stomach ; 
causes debility and irregular action of the heart ; 
that it confuses the vision, dilates the j^upil of the 
eye, and disturbs sound ; that it depresses the nerve 
centres, and opj^resses the brain ; that it affects the 
mucous membrane of the mouth and causes 
''smokers' sore throat," which often degenerates 
into cancer and agonizing death, — as in the cases of 
Emperor Frederick and Gleneral Grant ; that it irri- 
tates the surface of the lungs, causing a cough which 
is liable to end in consumption ; that it causes 
paralysis and often insanity ; and yet so much is man 



— 286 — 

a slave to this weakness and vice that he will face 
death in any of these forms rather than even try to 
throw off the yoke that is pressing on all his vital 
organs and slowly crushing out his life. 

Tobacco no doubt stimulates a desire for liquor, 
and many of our drunkards can trace their down- 
fall to its effects. If our country is ever freed from 
its baneful influence, it will have to be done 
through legislation. In that way our boys may 
reach their full growth without being stunted by its 
use. They may have a chance to stand on the 
threshold of their business lives with unclouded 
brains, clear eyes, steady nerves, healthy bodies, 
and sound j udgments ; they can be men in strength 
and might, unsullied l)y vice, unshackled by a 
death-dealing habit. 

Oh ! that all men could feel with King James 
the First, of England, who denounced the use of 
tobacco, saying it was "a custom loathsome to the 
eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dan- 
gerous to the lungs, and in the bkick, stinking 
fumes thereof nearest resembling the liorril)le Sty- 
o'ian smoke of the Pit that is bottomless." 



THE TOBACCO WORM. 

In his mind he was lame, to the monntains he came 
For air sweet and pure. AVould you think, to be 

sure, 
He would sit on a bench and create such a stench 
With tobacco so vile one could smell it a mile 'I 
These Catskills so fair with pure, ozone air 
All sparkling and blooming with roses so rare ; 
With the sheen and the luster and opal bright 

clusters 
Of the musical brook, as it laughs in each nook ; 
And the sun-girdled lilies, with tresses of gold, 
Eacli summer increasing their beauteous fold 
On the briglit emerald grass ; each point of it giving 
The spirit of Nature, — health, love, healing and 

living. 
The huge waving elms reach their sheltering arms 
To all who (attracted, adndring their charms) 
Love inirity, truth, wisdom, patience, and peace ; 
The sweet breath of Nature our health will increase, 
But this poison, this filthy, this vile nicotine. 
Invades this fair o-arden uninvited, unseen. 



287 



EXTRACTS FROM A LECTURE ON 
ODD-FELLOAVSHIP. 

When the blue heavens were first wrapped 
around this embryo world, and the liat of the 
Almighty had gone forth to perfect tiie work and 
embellish the earth with all that is fair and beauti- 
ful ; then was instituted that endless and jjleasing 
variety, both on and around this globe, whicli 
sliould make it a terrestrial Paradise. The mighty 
ocean, whose fathomless waves roll with sublime 
grandeur and dash with untutored violence, con- 
tains its millions of linny inhabitants who revel in 
the depths of its caverns, and sport amidst its 
evanescent mountains. 

The solid earth is clothed with emerald. Vege- 
tation springs foi'th in its beauteous forms, vieing 
with each other, and all appearing alternately the 
most lovely, from the stately oak, whose huge form 
gains strength by wrestling with the winds, to the 
modest violet whose blue eye looks up to heaven as 
if conscious from whence it derives its loveliness. 

Wherefore all this ^preparation ^ Why this 
agreeable diversity of heat and cold, day and night,, 
288 



— 289 — 

storm and suiisliine 'i Wherefore is the ])road and 
brilliant lam}) of heaven hnng ont by the fiat of 
Almighty Power to cheer the day by its light and 
effulgence, and when grey twiliglit speaks of a 
change, the cerulean curtain of the sky spread with 
its millions of sparkling diamonds? I repeat it, — 
wherefore all this mighty preparation which could 
be accomplished by nothing sliort of Inhnite Power 
and Infinite wisdom i 

"Let US make man in our own image." THIS 
accounts for that august preparation which engaged 
all Heaven in its accomplishment. 

"And God formed man of the dust of the 
earth, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of 
life, and man became a living soul." This vivifying 
breath of Deity, — ^this emanation from God, — was 
an inspiration of immortality which must exist 
forever. 



But the increase of the human race brought an 
increase of wealth and luxury which in many cases 
enervates the mind, debilitates the body, and blunts 
the perceptive faculties ; this brought not only an 
increase of selfishness, but created and augmented 
pride aud vanity. The few who had the courage, 
the virtue, the magnanimity to pass unscathed by 
the many temptations through the ordeal of human 



290- 



aggrandizement may truly be considered as differ- 
ing very much from the generality of mankind ; and, 
be their profession, occupation, politics, or religion 
what it may, they are ODD FELLOWS. 

As there has ever been, since the commence- 
ment of time, some few choice spirits (whose ruling- 
principle has been charity) which have served as so 
many beacons to warn mankind of the danger of 
selfishness, and the sin of misanthropy, we may 
justly consider that we are indebted to them for the 
preservation of an Institution which has for its 
object the happiness and well-being of mankind. 

We are aware of the numerous objections which 
have at different times been brought against Odd- 
Fellovvshij) by those who are ignorant of its true 
principles. One whispers : ' ' Beware of secret 
societies." Another cries out: "Our creed is in 
danger," when all religious creeds are admitted into 
the same institution with themselves. The third 
remarks: "If there is anything good in Odd- 
Fellowship, why not proclaim it to the worlds' 
A¥hile the fourth, with an expression of contemjDt 
on His features, says, dryly: "If its object is 
charity, we can bestow our charities without belong- 
ing to any institution." 

We contend that Odd-Fellowship is not a 
secret society in so far as its object is concerned. 
The END for which it was established is not pri 



291 



vate, and its i3rin<^*iples are proclaimed to the world. 
In answer to the ol)je('tions respecting particular 
creeds, we would simply remark that Odd-Fellow- 
shijj has for its ultimate object, in a religious point 
of view, all that is valuable in any known creed. It 
embraces those of all religious denominations, and 
excludes none who possess a good moral character 
and believe in God. Our daily experience has 
painfully taught us that those who make the loud- 
est profession are apt to possess least of the true 
principles of religion. We are informed in the 
sacred scriptures that the wind passed over the 
mountain, — God was not in the wind; again the 
tempest passed over, — God was not in the temx^est. 
At length there came a still, small voice, and God 
was in the voice. 

This still, small voice is Odd-Fellowship ; it is 
the voice of sympathy which bids him go forth and 
search for the oppressed and down-trodden of liis 
fellow beings, and, having found them, it bids him 
bind up the broken heart and minister to the spirit 
which is stricken with grief ; and in x>i'opoi'fioii 
as he contributes to the happiness of others, he 
enhances his own. 

The third objection which has been urged is : 
" If there be any good in this institution, why not 
proclaim it to the world '. " AVe would briefly reply 
that all that is necessary for the world to know to 



292 



enable tlieni to judge of the merits or demerits of 
this institution is already known by those who have 
talven tlie trouble to inform themselves ; as the use 
and definition of all its various symbols have been 
rej)eatedly explained in public lectures. 

To those who are still ignorant of its princiiDles 
we would say : Suspend your judgment until you 
examine its principles for yourselves ; the founda- 
tion on wdiich it is based ; its ultimate aim and 
object (for they are no secret), and if you have 
ordinary humanity and kindness of heart you can- 
not say they are unworthy of your attention. 

The fourth objection which is sometimes urged 
is, that we can bestow our charities without becom- 
ing members of any society. True, we can ; but, if 
we actually dlcl^ would not starving penury and 
want be at once banished from the w^orld \ What 
is everybody's business is nobody's, and the unfor- 
tunate being who seeks the cold charity of an 
unfeeling world is often left to suffer for the want 
of the most common necessaries of life. 

We enclose a garden with walls, not only that 
its fruit may come to maturity, but that it may be 
secured to its rightful owners. Even so with the 
princix)les of this Institution. Its seeming barriers 
are against none that justice says may enter ; it 
does not exclude those who are worthy to be admit- 



— 293 — 

ted, and ail rational minds must see the necessity of 
order in this as in all other societies. 

Odd-Fellowshij) has for its object the fairest 
and the greatest of all Christian virtues, — which is 
Charity. The founder of the Christian religion set 
an example worthy of all imitation in relieving the 
13ain and suffering of mankind, — ever at the couch 
of the sick, the sorrowful, and afflicted. He is the 
angel of mercy to the erring, the restorer of sight to 
the blind, administering to the wants of all who 
are afflicted either physically or mentally. The 
Apostles followed his divine injunctions and also 
became ministering angels. According to the testi- 
mony of St. James, it was the religion which they 
not only preached, but practised: "Pure religion 
and undehled before God the Father is this, — that 
ye visit the widow and fatherless in affliction, and 
keep yourselves unsx)otted fvom the world"; and 
this is the very essence of the ]3rinci2Dles of Odd- 
Fellowship, — at least, as we understand it. 

You may perhaps ask why a woman should 
advocate the x)rinciples of any secret society, — even 
of Odd-Fellowship. We know that women are not 
often admitted into Lodges, but do we not have the 
privilege of examining the laws by which they are 
governed i Do we not possess the same facilities 
for infoi-mation as men who are not among the 
initiated i Most certainly we do ; and, if the high- 



— 294^ 

est officei' ill the fniternity were to lectiu'e upon this 
subject pu])licly, would lie exi^lain anything more 
than the principles and object of this Institution 
and its beneficial effects upon those who adopt 
them 1 

Again, woman is so constituted that she forms 
the basis of domestic happiness or misery just in 
prox)ortion as she appreciates and facilitates the 
comfort and well-being of her family ; and no 
woman can, in my opinion, feel indifferent to the 
hapi^iness of those who are bound to her by the 
ties of consanguinity or affinity. Is not the happi- 
ness of her husband, father, brother, or son of the 
greatest moment 'i 

1 know that many men of wealth consider that 
benevolent institutions are nothing to them. For- 
tune has elevatt'd them above their less fortunate 
neighbors, and, as they have ever received her 
smiles, they exx)ect a ccmtinuation of them. The 
sun has more than once risen brightly upon fortunes 
wdiich have ceased to l)e ere his setting. Change is 
wi'iifeu with the broad sunbeam of truth u[)on all 
tangible objects. The rich of today may be the 
poor of tomorrow. "Let him that standeth take 
heed lest he fall." The king of Israel who was 
noted for his great wisdom said: "Put not your 
trust in riches, for tliey take to themselves wings 
and flyaway.'' Every day's experience proves the 



295- 



uncertainty upon which our fondest hopes are 
based, and when our skies are darkened by clouds 
of affliction there is nothing that can come into our 
lives that will be more welcome ; no chain that can 
draw us back from despair to hapi3iness like the 
three links of FRIENDSHIP, LOVE, and TRUTH. 




OLD AGE. 

How frightful it is to the young to think of 
gray hairs and decrepitude ; and yet we go step by 
stej) so gradually up the hill of life that we are at 
the summit before we realize that we are half way, 
and when we have gained the top of the mountain 
and look around on the valleys below us we see 
innumerable swarms of humanity going hither and 
thither clutching at the tangible always ; for that 
god Mammon has the sincerest, most enthusiastic 
worshippers, and they are not all outside of the 
churches, either, for the Christians of today clamor 
loudly for money, and some churches are the great 
monied archways through which the rich pay toll 
to heaven, but they will iind their heamn will be 
just in proportion to the amount of charity and love 
which tliey possess. If old age has laid in store wis- 
dom and truth, then it is only the body, not the spirit, 
that is dimmed by time. Old age is delightful, for 
we have outridden the storms of life and ceased to 
struggle with its fury, and are no longer fearful of 
being wrecked on the rocks of disappointment, or 
of being stranded on the shoals of sorrow. As our 
life-bark is placidly gliding toward the evergreen 
290 



— 297 — 

shore of immortality, we scent the sweet aroma of 
ilowers and feel the warm sympathies of friends 
who have long since j)assed through the golden 
door to life immortal. Death, instead of being full 
of terror, is the sweet messenger of rest who says to 
the tired soul be free ; free from sorrow, from doubt, 
from disappointment, from being insphered in dust 
and darkness. Free to range through the deathless 
universe of souls and free to gaze on the glories, 
wonders, and beauties of immortality. 

It seems that every season of life has its j)ecu- 
liar phases. Infancy demands food and nursing. 
Childhood, amusements and instruction ; and youth 
looks forward to manhood or womanhood with the 
keenest relish of anticipation ; while the great noon 
of life to all finds them on the summit of middle 
age almost before their plans have been matured, 
much less achieved, and it is only when the soul 
looks within that spirit- lighted temple where she 
kneels in humble reverence and asks for more light, 
more love, more wisdom, and asks, with all the 
earnestness of a suffering need, that the fountains 
of truth are opened and the thirsty soul can par- 
take of the water of life and be satisfied ! Satished 
only for the present, for when we stej) on higher 
ground and stand gazing at the beauties of the 
worlds around us, and make ourselves acquainted 
with the phenomena of nature, of the grandeur and 



— 298 — 

sublimity of the works of God shining tlirough 
nature in ten thousand different ways, our experi- 
ence becomes enlarged, our souls expand, and it 
takes more of truth's higher developments to satisfy 
the cravings of our spirits. But when we realize 
that these earth-forms are not ourselves, only the 
dust-garment that we wear while we are in eartli 
life, not our real selves, we have taken a step 
forward and upward that enables lis to comprehend 
one of the greatest mysteries of life. All of nature, 
all of humanity, all of the unseen forces which 
harmonize with us or those which are antagonistic 
to us, if they are not actually seen, they are yet 
dimly comprehended by the spirit that has taken 
this most important step forward and upward. 

I expect some will say, "How visionary," while 
others will say, "It is all imagination," the term 
which to them means hallucination, or deception to 
the mind : but it is because they have never seen 
through the clairvoyant eye of reason that they 
cannot comprehend that this dust that we wear 
about us is only the walls which for a while obscure 
the spirit and keep it in contact with matter for its 
more complete individualization. If we could con- 
template the grass, the tree, or flower in ethereal 
state before it has been developed outwardly into a 
tangible form, we should soon be able to compre- 
hend that this same law extends throus:hout all 



vR^25;a;S5^^ii^. 



299 



sx)ace, all worlds, and that matter is as immortal as 
spirit and never found without this moving, breath- 
ing, life-inspiring agency which ever blends with it 
in all the different ]3liases through which it passes ; 
birth and death, or decay and renovation, is the 
riglit and left hand of change which marks and 
marshals worlds in their sublime marches through 
the great cycles of time. 

How much and how unjustly has death been 
slandered by theology both in the past and present. 
It is rei^resented that it is a punishment sent for the 
disobedience of mankind, and we are gravely told 
that, if Adam had not sinned, man would have been 
deathless even in mortal life. All of truth, all of 
reason forbid such falsehood. Star-eyed science 
lifts her glittering fingers toward the heavens and 
declares that such religion is born of falsehood ; 
that death or the laying down this mortal body is 
the great, the grand event in our lives, for which we 
were born. If we could have the truth in our child- 
hood, we then should look upon death as the glad 
messenger which gives us back all the loved and 
lost through the various stages of life ; gives us light 
to see the beauties, the glories, the mysteries of the 
ever working laws recix^rocating through all nature, 
through all worlds, through all the various cycles 
of time down the star-o-emmed avenues of eternity. 



300 



Truth given to the chikl bears fruit ten, twenty, 
and sometimes an hundred fold, it accumulates the 
diamond threads that communicate from the great 
Positive Mind to every soul that possesses this 
priceless magnet that draws us up to God. 




MY FIRST GRANDMOTHER. 

Away back tlirough ages I see my first grand- 
mother, who lived and loved, raised her offspring, 
tended and nursed, cared and prayed for them, and 
then laid down the mortal and entered in at the 
golden door of immortality where her life with all 
its wondrous powers, her mind with all its myste- 
rious capacities, her love which has ever since been 
constantly expanding, has come down through the 
whirling cycles of time to all her children. With 
each new child a new love is born and that love is 
immortal. Is it not wonderful and beautiful that 
we can trace step by step our lineal vine, the 
roots of which are deep bedded in the fartherest 
century, but its beautiful clusters are the golden 
fruit of immortality. This vine is lifted higher and 
higher as the centuries advance, so we can trace our 
ancestry to the highest archangels that have 
thousands of years agone been initiated into the 
sublime mysteries of immortal and perpetual youth. 



301 



"AVHAT GOD HAIH CLEANSED." 

We do not understand why the h)wer orders of 
life exist in any of their venomous forms, b^it we 
know they do, and that tliey were created by the 
same Almighty Power thnt formed the planets on 
which they exist; and because God formed them 
we should at least try to endure them without any 
hatred, which always produces inharmony. We 
pa;y a very poor compliment to the Great Author of 
all nature in oar rudeness and nervousness to rep- 
tile, animal, and mankind when we are too delicate 
to endure what Infinite Wisdom has formed. 
Charity will at once teach us that they did not 
make themselves, and if we who have been born and 
developed on a different plane have any better 
thoughts, any more harmonious aspirations, we 
should thank God and reach forth a heljiing hand 
to those lower in the scale of development, or at 
least treat them with charity and forbearance. T 
know that there are persons so self-conceited that 
the;y will not listen to anything that points at their 
defects, faults, bad habits, and inharmonies. To 
such there is no other way but to let them pass 
through their oidu x>et lieUs to heaven. 
302 



— 803 — 

A Self-Examining Society would be the very 
best Society in the world for everybody to join. 
Each day of our lives to call ourselves to account 
and see if all our thoughts and actions have been in 
accordance with the very best maxims of Confu- 
cius, and reiterated in the Sermon on the Mount : 
' ' Whatsoever ye would that others do unto you, do 
ye even so unto them." If all the inhabitants of 
the earth would practise this sinqile, beautiful 
religion, what a glorious millenium would immedi- 
ately dawn on our darkened and war-stained world ; 
Peace, charity, and love would Avrap the world in 
diamond robes of purity, and Truth should light us 
to the homes of the angels. Life or dea th , prosperity 
or adversity, would be all the same, for we should 
know of a truth that heaven is liere^ and that the 
kingdom of heaven is within every human soul. 



The reason why human (charity is so often inef 
fectual is because it is so seldom mingled with 
reason and judgment. We know the natural dis- 
positions and habits of animals, birds, and reptiles, 
and we do not feel anger at their manifestation, but 
in the case of human beings we do not exercise the 
same forbearance. If a person is born with a material 



304 



body that is avaricious and mean, he has no other 
mode of manifesting his powers of mind excejDt 
through his organism, and we feel an antagonism, or 
disgust and antipathy, and wonder why he cannot 
understand a more liberal policy 

Now it is certain that our bodies material aro 
the tunnels or mode of contact with others of our 
internal selves, and, if they are so badly constructed 
that only selfish, mean, and avaricious sentiments 
can find expression, we should look upon such an 
one as being helpless to give us any better demon- 
strations of the mind and disposition, and on the 
same plane with animals and reptiles, — born for 
only such manifestations. Then will our love for 
good and progress be made apparent in trying to 
influence them to a higher plane of life by more 
elevating and unselfish examples. 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

,0 01Q 597 919 2 



